Breathe
by knitchick
Summary: Based on the 2005 movie. What would have happened if instead of walking away in anger, they had just taken a breath and closed the scant distance between them during the proposal scene in the rain? A story about forgiveness and overcoming the obstacles of family, friends, society and their own pride and prejudices to find their happy ending. Fluff. Some characters are slightly OOC.
1. Chapter 1

Lizzy's breath came in broken gasps after her heated declaration, she would _never_ marry this arrogant, this … overbearing, this … gorgeous man.

_Gorgeous? _

Even in her anger she couldn't deny that he was very handsome, she had thought him so right from the first but then he had shown himself to be so disagreeable that she had quickly buried that fact deep in her subconscious. After all, what woman wants to be attracted to a man who finds her barely tolerable?

She could now shamefully admit to herself that her vanity had been wounded. A vanity that she hadn't even realized she possessed.

For how could anyone be vain with the beautiful Jane for a sister and Fanny Bennet for a mother?

Well … maybe Lydia, but then she was an entity unto herself.

But here and now, his clothes plastered to his imposing physique and his intense dark eyes almost black with … with what? Anger … yes, indignation … yes, hurt? … yes, even she could see that, and as much as she didn't want to acknowledge it, that did bother her. She had no desire to cause him pain … well maybe a little.

It was the other thing she saw in his eyes that scared her for she had no name for it but it caused her heart to beat faster, her breath to catch in her chest, and a tightening somewhere deep in her abdomen. It was that same look he always wore when she caught his stare, the look she had always assumed meant he despised her and was continually cataloging her faults.

Only now she knew differently.

That look, up close, took on an entirely different meaning, especially in light of his recent astonishing revelation. She found herself trapped in his gaze and unconsciously stepped closer, as if pulled by an invisible thread until the very air seemed to spark between them.

She could see he was breathing hard as well and she found her gaze suddenly locked on to his full lips, watching as his breath moved in and out and she found herself inexplicably wondering what they would feel like against hers. She knew the thought was unfathomable in light of her vow to loathe him for all eternity. … yet she couldn't seem to curtail her wayward thoughts.

Was this what desire felt like?

What desire _looked_ like?

For she knew now, without a doubt, that it was not contempt she saw in his eyes, but desire.

Desire … for her.

That startling realization caused her stomach to clench tightly as the heat rushed to color her face; she couldn't take her eyes away from his lips which seemed to get closer by the moment.

She dragged her eyes up and back into his compelling stare which seemed to pierce her very soul, and for a moment she forgot everything. Then she was filled with his scent; his very presence, and she struggled to catch her breath as a wave of longing swept through her. A longing so intense her legs could scarcely hold her and she stumbled forward, only to be caught up in his strong arms and held tightly against his chest.

She knew she should step away from him; they were already flaunting every rule of propriety just by being here alone together. If anyone were to see them like this her reputation would be ruined.

But for just this single moment she couldn't bring herself to care.

It felt so good.

She had never felt anything like it, and she intuitively knew that she would be safe and protected in his arms.

But it was the fire she felt along every part of her body that touched his that stole her reason, made her forget all her arguments against him, and she was reluctantly forced to admit to herself that she was passionately attracted to this man.

They say that love and hate are close bedfellows, and although she couldn't even think the word love, she knew that her intense reactions to Mr. Darcy from the beginning should have enlightened her to the passionate feelings he could evoke inside her.

For she had never had such strong feelings for anyone, not even the toady Mr. Collins.

In desperation, she tried to recall to the forefront of her mind all the reasons she had, just moments before, spurned his proposal, but the feel of his hard body pressed so tightly against hers made rational thought almost impossible.

Her hands seemed to have a life of their own as they worked their way under his waistcoat and around to caress his strong back through the fine linen of his shirt. She could feel the contours of his muscles and felt his sharply in drawn breath at her forwardness.

"Elizabeth?" he whispered almost too softly for her to hear, his voice reluctantly hopeful.

She suddenly felt powerful and energized by his reaction to her. No man had ever chosen _her_ first, desired _her_ above all else, and the feeling was almost overwhelming. That this proud, arrogant, virile and highly sought after man could be brought to his knees by her … a country girl with no connections, no dowry, and, she grudgingly admitted to herself, a family that _was_ an embarrassment at times, made her heart jump.

She struggled to put her feelings into words. "What … what are you doing to me?" she asked haltingly.

"I want very much to hate you, but I can't … I find that I … I …" she rarely had difficulty articulating her thoughts and feelings, a fact Mr. Darcy was very well aware, but right at that moment she couldn't seem to find the right words … or any words it seemed.

"Shh," he was so close that she could feel the word as it left his mouth rather than hear it, and before she could even attempt a response, their lips touched.

His kiss was gentle and soft; a tentative question, a shy request, and she felt her insides flip over at the contact. In response, she pulled him even closer.

She both heard and felt his groan as his arms pulled her tightly into his body as he deepened the kiss. Her lips were on fire where they touched his and she shuddered when she felt his tongue glide slowly across her bottom lip; instinctively opening her lips at the exquisite sensation.

The feel of his tongue touching hers sent another thrill of pleasure down her spine. She reached up with both hands to pull him closer; her hands lost in his thick hair.

As their tongues moved together in a sensual dance she felt her nipples harden against his chest and a moist heat pool in her nether regions. She had never felt anything like this before; did not think it was possible to feel anything even close to this.

It suddenly put a new perspective on marriage, one, that if she were honest, erased her previously held distaste and fear for the marriage bed.

She had once overheard her mother and Aunt Phillips discussing their 'wifely duties' with evident distaste. They had made coupling between a man and woman sound barbaric and painful; something that was to be endured as the cost of being a wife and having to provide an heir.

What she was feeling now was the exact opposite of barbaric and distasteful.

It was electric.

It was wonderful!

If this was what it felt like to be intimate with another person, she now understood the need for maintaining propriety. Otherwise things could quickly get out of hand if more people experienced this feeling prior to marriage.

She had just enough coherent thought left to wonder if what they were sharing was rare; this passionate connection that she and Mr. Darcy seemed to have. She doubted even Mr. Wickham would have elicited anywhere near the same response Mr. Darcy stirred in her. If it was the norm, why would her mother and aunt call this a 'dreaded chore;' something to be endured?

She very much thought she would relish this aspect of marriage if it always felt this way.

Her lips suddenly felt cold and bereft, but before she could protest she felt his hot mouth grazing the pulse point just below her ear and she groaned in pleasure, her hips unconsciously grinding against his hardness in search of … _something_.

She had lived on a farm long enough to know that the male appendage hardened before mating, but feeling the hardness against her stomach caused her insides to clench even tighter.

"So beautiful … so soft," he murmured as his lips seared a path down her neck towards her open bodice. She strained to get closer to him, her lips searching out any available piece of skin to press against, finally settling on the taut lines of his neck above his cravat.

She kissed and licked him, tasting the rain and sweat mingled with his own unique masculine scent. She couldn't seem to get enough of him and soon found herself sucking his neck to absorb more of his delicious flavor. He groaned loudly and turning, he pressed her up against the pillar and ground himself harder into her heat.

She knew they shouldn't be here; shouldn't be doing this out in the open where anyone could discover them, especially since she had just refused his proposal of marriage. She knew she was behaving wantonly, but was having a hard time caring right at that moment.

Her reasons for hating him seemed very inconsequential just then, and she briefly wondered how valid they honestly were if she were able to so easily disregard them when faced with his scorching kisses.

_Was_ she so sure of her own judgment?

_Could_ she have misjudged him and his intentions?

She was struggling to distinguish between the passionate and loving man she was currently entwined with, and the proud, arrogant man she had stubbornly believed him to be.

Had she been so very wrong?

Had her judgment been so erroneous that she had misread the situation? If so, what else had she been wrong about?

Could she be wrong about Wickham?

About Jane and Charles?

She knew they needed to talk, but all rational thought left her as his fingers grazed her taut nipple and she cried out in pleasure.

"Elizabeth," he moaned in her ear, his breathing hot and heavy against her skin sending tingles along her spine.

"I love you so much … I have dreamed of holding you like this for so long," his teeth nipped her earlobe and she shuddered, unable to respond to the words that were filling her with as much warmth as his hands and lips were.

"But my dreams … didn't even come close … to the reality … of touching you … and holding you … and kissing you."

Each word was punctuated by another hot kiss to the sensitive skin on her neck and chest. She felt him loosen the back of her dress and felt his hands easing the sleeve of her dress down her shoulder so his lips could have better access to the skin displayed there.

"Please," he begged quietly, earnestly. "Please forgive my blundering from before and say you'll be mine … say you'll let me love you and care for you," he raised his head and met her eyes once more, his voice pleading. "Say you will be my partner in life … my equal … my one … my only … my wife."

She saw the storm of feeling behind his eyes and felt locked in that turbulence once more. She could no longer deny that she was very, very tempted to accept this man. Her body was crying out for him and she yearned for his lips to resume their exquisite torture. Her very skin seemed to ache for him.

Was this love?

Could she find this with another?

Somehow she knew that although she may feel pleasure with another it would never be like this … never be this intense and heated. Her entire history with Mr. Darcy had been heated and intense.

Was love really so close to hate?

Could she trust him; let herself go and _just feel_?

"What about …" she cleared her throat after the first words came out as a squeak, "what about Jane?"

She wouldn't … she _couldn't_ be happy with Jane in so much pain. She couldn't even contemplate marrying him with that hanging over them like an ax waiting to fall.

"I was wrong," he said heatedly, his hands coming up to caress her face, his eyes begging her to forgive; to understand, "I thought I was looking out for a friend … someone who is like a brother to me … I was wrong. I will confess my interference as soon as we leave here and tell him of your sister's true feelings towards him. I swear I will make it right!" His heated proclamation touched her heart and she knew he meant every word.

She suddenly knew that further discussion could wait. They needed to talk about Wickham and her family, but they would have that discussion at another time, now that the issue with Jane was sorted out she knew they could eventually work out the rest.

"Please Elizabeth … I love you," he cried desperately, misreading her silence.

"I will do everything in my power to make you happy if you just let me. I know you don't love me yet, but I hope in time you will come to. Let me prove to you I can be a better man … with you by my side I will endeavor every day to deserve you. Please," he whispered, a tear trailing down his cheek.

She felt her heart crack at the sight of it. That this proud, quiet man possessed such a heart … and he was offering all of it, all of his heart and all he owned … _to her, _broke through her doubt and fears and touched her deeply.

Should she take a chance on this man who made her feel things so intensely?

_Could_ _she?_

Before she could answer, he lifted her up against him and pushed her back against the pillar where he proceeded to drive all doubt and reason from her with a mind-blowing kiss that shook her to her very core. His tongue plunged and pillaged her mouth as if searching out every inch of uncharted territory and claiming it as his own. His hands reached down and gripped her backside, grinding his ever-present hardness into her as if to sear her heat on its very surface.

She couldn't breathe, she could barely form a coherent thought let alone answer him … which she suspected was his goal all along, but she couldn't fault him for it, not when her every nerve ending was alive with pleasure and her body burned to be possessed by this man.

Panting heavily he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, both struggling to catch their breath.

"Please Elizabeth, I can't bear to lose you. I can barely breathe without you," the desperation and longing in his voice shook her almost as much as his kiss had, and she knew that whatever her future held, she wanted it to include this man.

"Yes," she whispered as she forced him to face her again and lightly kissed his forehead, "Yes," then each of his cheeks, "Yes," then his chin, "Yes," and finally his lips.

He pulled her into a tight hug and she suddenly felt herself being whirled around as he shouted happily.

"YES!"

She had never seen the stoic Mr. Darcy laugh before, nor seen such a large and beautiful smile grace his features, if she had she may have fallen for him long ago. Regardless, she found herself laughing along with him and he kissed her heartily once more before finally putting her down, although he didn't release her from his embrace.

"Oh my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth," he began breathlessly, "You have made me the happiest of men. Please say we will have a _very_ short engagement, because I'm not sure how long I can survive without you in my arms … and in my bed," he growled hotly in her ear, eliciting another delicious shudder down her body.

"Well then," she responded just as breathlessly, "I suggest we make our way back to the parsonage so that you can carry a letter to my father for me when you go to ask his permission to marry,"

She pulled back and looked at him sternly, "Of course, I expect you to make a stop on your way through London to make things right between Jane and Mr. Bingley. I cannot be happy while my sister is still in so much pain."

He sighed heavily before responding, "I will do as you ask, my love. I only hope Charles can forgive me for interfering. I fear this may put a strain on our friendship, but it is the right thing to do … I have been the cause of too much misunderstanding and pain and have much to atone for."

She kissed him once more; slowly and softly, before pulling away and speaking more forcefully, "I'm very glad you are willing to confess your part in the affair, but you were simply the catalyst," she explained.

"Mr. Bingley is a grown man and able to make his own decisions and supposedly know his own heart and mind. He could have ignored you and his interfering sisters and followed his heart, but he didn't. Ultimately, this is still his responsibility to make right and I hope Jane makes him grovel sufficiently before accepting him back."

He looked at her doubtfully and was opening his mouth to speak when she cut him off.

"I find it hard to believe _you_ would be led so easily once you had you're mind settled on something. Will _you_ allow anyone to convince you out of marrying me? What if your aunt threatens to disavow all family connection with you? What of your uncle? What if Mr. Bingley threatens to abandon your friendship? What if society shuns your choice? Or Georgiana?"

She knew she was forcing him into a corner with her question that began as a simple point but soon developed a life of its own, but she was trying to make a point … and if she were honest, they were valid concerns and fears and she held her breath as she awaited his answer.

She could tell he was giving serious thought to her questions and she wondered if he had fully considered the ramifications of marrying her before making his proposal. He had said he fought against his desire, against his better judgment, against his duty … would he now reconsider? She knew he was too honorable to retract a proposal once offered, but she would release him from his promise if he asked … as much as it pained her to even consider it.

That her feelings had altered so drastically from just an hour ago still amazed and frightened her.

Could one traverse the divide between love and hate so easily, or had she only been desperately holding onto her resentments as protection against just such an outcome as this?

Having had a taste of the most delicious nectar imaginable, she now knew what she would be missing out on if she lost him, and that wasn't a happy thought at all.

Would any other man ever measure up to him? Would she lose him before she was able to complete what they had started here today?

Her body protested that thought as she pushed back the craving to feel his arms around her and his lips all over her. This had to be his decision. They would never be happy if he came to resent her for forcing him into an untenable position. She had never before wanted money or position in society, but she couldn't help wishing, for just a moment, that she had been born into a different situation so that their social differences wouldn't be an issue.

She sighed heavily and banished the thought as soon as it entered her head. She was who she was and she was happy with that. She was a gentleman's daughter regardless of the lack of dowry or connections. If that wasn't enough for him then he didn't deserve her.

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin in self defense. She was who and what she was and she would not make excuses for that.

The silence stretched along with her nerves as she awaited his response. She knew he was a man who made careful decisions and if the outcome hadn't had such a vital impact on her future happiness she would respect his diligence and consideration, but the strain of waiting was starting to wear on her and she finally had enough.

If this was so difficult than obviously he wasn't ready to commit himself to her and it would be better if she walked away now before she let herself be hurt any more.

She pushed away from him and fought down the feeling of loss as they were separated.

She turned and looked at him once more before departing. Her legs felt shaky but she was determined to walk away with her head held high and she would not falter. Her voice, when she spoke, came out harsher than intended but that couldn't be helped. It was far preferable to sound haughty than for him to know what this was costing her.

"Well then, I see your choice is clear. I release you from any obligation to me," her voice caught on the last word and she took a deep breath and quickly began to walk away, struggling to fix her dress as she did so. She would _not_ let him see her cry, she did, after all, have some pride left.

"Elizabeth? NO! WAIT!" she heard his startled cry just moments before she felt his strong hand close around her arm and turn her to face him. She saw the anguish on his face and the fear in his eyes and felt the first glimmer of hope in her chest.

"NO! I'm sorry if I made you think I had changed my mind, I was simply trying to look at the situation from all angles as you suggested. I didn't want you to think I wasn't taking this seriously," his voice pleaded for understanding.

"I don't want there to be any doubt in your mind that I mean what I say when I tell you that _none_ of that matters," he grabbed both of her hands in his and pulled her close.

"_Nothing_ matters but you! It would pain me if I lost the friendship of Charles, but I don't think that will happen. My sister is the only other opinion that really matters to me and I'm sure she will adore you as I do," he tenderly enclosed her face in his hands, "and if she doesn't, it won't matter, I would still choose _you_ over all of them. I need _you_ … no one else."

He pulled her close and kissed her; a sweet, intense kiss that left no doubt of the depth of his love and longing for her. She felt her heart soar at both his words and his kiss, and she knew that with him by her side they could weather anything.

She stepped away and grabbed his hand, her 'fine eyes' alight with love and hope, and raising one eyebrow in that impertinent way he adored so much, she saucily replied.

"Come then Mr. Darcy, let us go face the dragons so we can get back to flaunting propriety."

He smiled widely before taking a deep breath and following her.

"Might I suggest we fasten your dress first then, my dearest Elizabeth?"


	2. Chapter 2

He stared at the ceiling trying to fall asleep, but the day's events were still running through his head and he knew slumber would be a long time in coming.

Oh what a day … one filled with hope, pain, frustration and anger … but ultimately, and most importantly … unadulterated joy.

_We are to be married! She agreed to marry me!_

That thought alone eased the anger and frustration he still felt at his aunt's vitriolic reaction to the news of their engagement. He had suspected she might not be receptive to the idea, but had hoped that given enough time, she would support his decision and be, if not happy, at least civil to his future bride.

He had not expected the unmitigated firestorm that their announcement had unleashed. One would have thought the seven furies of hell had been let loose in Rosings Park and his aunt the devil incarnate so incensed had she become. He shuddered as he remembered the look of pure hatred on her face as she upbraided both he and Elizabeth. The perceived loss of Pemberley, which his aunt had deluded herself into believing would be hers once he married Anne, had hit her hard and she wasn't about to give it up without a battle.

And oh what a battle it had been.

And his brave, beautiful Elizabeth had stood toe to toe with the demon and refused to back down. He had never loved her more than at that moment. She was like Boudicca, the warrior queen, fierce and protective; eyes blazing with fire, cheeks awash in color and hair almost crackling with energy as she took every insult and insinuation his aunt threw at her and deflected it before turning around and throwing it right back.

Unexpected desire flooded his body in remembrance. Oh, how he had wanted to take her then and there; to claim her as his own, propriety be damned. Even Richard had looked on in awe and fascination at this wondrous woman who dared to defy his aunt in such a forceful and fearless manner; he could almost feel the desire rolling off his cousin as well, but could hardly fault him for it.

He was a very lucky man indeed.

He had been almost giddy with happiness earlier as they walked back from the monument … which took an inordinate amount of time since they had taken advantage of every hidden glen and obscured tree for more mind numbing kisses.

He had never met a woman who tested his boundaries so thoroughly before. He had always been overly cautious about doing anything that even hinted at impropriety … yet with Elizabeth he seemed to lose all reason. Every ounce of sense and decorum he possessed failed him when she was in his arms and it took all of his strength not to deflower her in the hedgerows.

He was getting hard even now just thinking about it. The way she molded her body against his, her small, delicate hands innocently inflaming him wherever they touched, and her kisses … he could lose himself in her kisses and die a happy man.

He never knew it could feel like that with another person; had never felt such a desire to possess someone, as if his very soul was crying out for her. He felt complete when she was in his arms and almost couldn't breathe when she pulled away.

These feelings both exhilarated and scared him.

He had always kept a tight rein on his emotions, acting as he felt his father would have, hoping to prove himself worthy of the Darcy name. He had donned the mantle of responsibility before he was ready and yet had striven to do all that was required and expected of him. He learned early that everyone wanted a piece of him, so he held himself apart from others and allowed very few people to pierce his protective shell. Charles, Richard and Georgiana had been the only exceptions … until now.

Now it felt like a dam had burst inside him and all the emotions he had denied himself for so long; feelings he had believed he was incapable of ever experiencing, had burst forth in a wave so strong it took his breath away and almost staggered him.

He was not an innocent by any means, he and Charles had visited a few places during college that had introduced him to a woman's body and the myriad pleasures that could be had. But after his father died he had never again allowed himself that weakness.

There was no denying he had plenty of opportunities over the years as there was no shortage of women willing to do almost anything to secure a wealthy man, but he had always resisted.

After all, it was next to impossible to keep that sort of thing quiet no matter how discrete you try to be, and he had never wanted any news of his indiscretions to get back to Georgie. He didn't want her, or his father, to ever be disappointed in him, so he determined to repress his physical desires until marriage.

As a result, he was in excellent shape thanks to all the fencing, boxing and horseback riding he had used as an outlet for all his excess … _energy_ … over the years.

Unfortunately, his immense responsibility to Pemberley coupled with his distaste for society had resulted in his spending an inordinate amount of time at his country estate where the few women he did interact with were either already married, barely out of the schoolroom … or Charles' sister.

He shuddered at the thought of the clingy, simpering Caroline Bingley.

He realized early on that she had set her sights on him … _pretty much as soon as she had gotten a good look at the size of his estate_, he thought cynically. He had initially found her attractive but very quickly her shallow personality and overblown sense of superiority had made itself blatantly obvious and he determined he would rather die alone than be shackled to her in marriage.

It had been a challenge over the ensuing years to remain civil for Charles' sake, especially once they had arrived at Netherfield, but he believed he had been successful most of the time.

Pushing thoughts of Caroline aside, he wondered why no woman had ever attracted his interest or desire for very long. He had learned very quickly to avoid the matchmaking mothers of London, some of whom would do anything … _anything_ … to secure him for their daughters. He had narrowly escaped quite a few traps concocted to force his hand, and as a result he had learned to keep his 'mask' on when he was in public.

Looking back, he could honestly say that although he had a found himself physically attracted to a few women, there had not been a single one he could imagine spending an afternoon with, much less a lifetime … until now.

Until he met Elizabeth Bennet.

Elizabeth Bennet with her indifferent father and annoying mother …

He suddenly felt guilty as he remembered his unkind words about Mrs. Bennet. She hadn't been any worse than the rest of the society mothers he loathed, but due to her lack of social position and her unpolished manners, he had been even more repulsed by her. He could see now how unfair he had been where she was concerned.

No wonder Elizabeth had been so angry.

And that was the irony of the situation. He had finally found a woman who had captured and held his interest; a woman who challenged and intrigued him right from the first; a woman whom he desired and yearned for, and yet he had almost allowed his pride … his prejudices … to drive her away, and all because she wasn't one of the socially approved sycophants he had always secretly despised.

His hypocrisy and his belief in his superiority had almost cost him his happiness, and he fervently thanked God for interceding on his behalf.

He couldn't even begin to imagine what his life would be like now without Elizabeth.

It would be a life without light and sunshine, without music and harmony, without touch or taste … without love. Because she was love in all its forms, she was his toughest critic and his fiercest defender, she challenged him and soothed him, she took him to the highest peaks and caught him when he fell back to earth. She had cracked the shell and opened him up and introduced him to what it meant to truly live.

She was his heart.

She was his life.

And she had said yes!

Despite the way he had insulted her and her family … she had said yes!

He had been sought after season after season by most of the eligible, and not so eligible, ladies of the ton and it had made him cynical and reserved, but most of all it had confirmed his own good opinion of himself and his belief in his own elevated position among his peers. He believed himself modest and generous yet knew he was an extremely eligible catch that any young lady would be honored to accept.

Yet her initial refusal to his proposal had been a hard blow and he was still reeling from the blow. If he had reacted in anger and walked away as he wanted to instead of responding to the desire he felt in her …

He shuddered to imagine what he would be feeling now had she not accepted his second proposal. He had almost allowed his hurt pride to dictate his actions, and that would have been disastrous.

He knew the intense rush of desire had taken her by surprise as much as it had him and she would have been well within her rights to slap him for his forwardness when he kissed her. But he had needed to feel her soft, tempting lips, even if only just the once … and it had been worth it. Even if he had never seen her again after today, that kiss would be seared on his memory for the rest of his life.

And the kisses that followed … Oh Lord … he had never felt anything even remotely that intense with any of the expensive courtesans he visited. The ladies that made their living out of pleasuring a man hadn't affected him nearly as much. Yet this innocent country girl had brought him to his knees.

He should have suspected as much; his physical reaction to her had been strong right from the first … did she think he made a habit of looking out windows simply for the scenery? Not even his money would have protected his reputation if anyone had caught sight of such visible evidence of his … interest … displayed for all to see.

Speaking of interest! He suppressed the desire to seek relief from his condition; he knew it would just come back as soon as he thought about Elizabeth's sweet lips, or her lithe figure … bloody hell, this was not helping.

Back to Aunt Catherine …

There … that had done the trick!

His aunt had made it very clear that if he refused to do his duty that he would never be welcomed in her house again. The thing was, _he_ was the reason she had remained solvent for the last few years. He used his annual visit to draw up the budget for the coming year with the foreman of the estate, as his aunt could never be bothered with such trivial matters. He had hired the current foreman as the previous one was not only mismanaging the estate, but robbing her blind in the process.

It had taken her seven months to forgive him for proving her hired man was a crook.

He found out on this visit that the new man was having problems trying to make his aunt live within her means. Overspending on exotic food, extravagant purchases for the already overly ostentatious manor, and a new carriage when her old one was still in near perfect condition, were just some of his concerns.

The foreman, Mr. Thomas, had tried to bring up theses issues with his aunt, and even went so far as to explain that she would run out of money if she continued to exceed her income by so much … but she refused to admit there was a problem, and bristled at being 'chided like a recalcitrant child' by her nephew.

And then there was the blow-up.

Every time he tried to intervene in the argument between Elizabeth and his aunt, she had squeezed his hand to keep him out of it. He suspected she was trying to allow him to salvage whatever semblance of a relationship remained with his aunt if he remained silent, by at that point, he was far past caring if he never saw the harridan again.

He struggled to comply with her wishes, especially in light of the fact that she was more than capable of defending herself. He completely lost all restraint, however, when his aunt called Elizabeth a _'money and position grubbing harlot that would be better served using her wiles in the brothels of London because it would be a step up from her social position as it stood currently.'_

That's when things got especially brutal.

It had ended with him storming out of the house after his vehement declaration that she would no longer be welcome at either Pemberley or his London house and he would not visit her until she apologized to Elizabeth and accepted her as his choice of wife. He suspected it would be a long time before that would happen, but as long as he had Elizabeth, he honestly didn't care. Richard or his uncle would have to take over the responsibility of overseeing the management of her estate. He washed his hands of it.

His valet had his trunks packed in record time and he and Elizabeth had left for London within the hour. She was now safely ensconced at her uncle's house on Gracechurch Street, and he was back at Darcy House … alone.

Richard had ridden out as well, deciding he would be better off well clear of Kent until his aunt's anger subsided and Darcy suspected Richard would make a stop to see his mistress now that his obligatory visit had been unexpectedly cut short.

He was still amazed at the degree his aunt had deluded herself about his imagined marriage to Anne. He did care for his cousin … in a way; at least, he had always felt sorry for her being forced to live with such a caustic and opinionated woman year after year, but he had never loved her or ever once considered marrying her.

How could he? She never voiced a single opinion … about anything. He had no idea what she liked or didn't like, he only had his aunt's opinion on things Anne _would have been_ proficient at had she ever attempted it.

Anne had a rather extensive list of things she would have excelled at had her health allowed … or rather, had her mother allowed.

Besides, anyone with eyes could see how ill Anne was, and she got worse every year. He doubted she would even be capable of performing her wifely duties, much less be strong enough to produce the heir he required. Couldn't his aunt see that? Had she deluded herself about the condition of her daughter's health as well?

He would almost feel sorry for her if the situation didn't make him so angry.

The other thing that bothered him was Anne's reaction. Had Anne started to buy into her mother's delusions as well? He recalled the look on her face when he announced that he and Elizabeth were engaged, and he could have sworn he saw anger and hurt before she looked back down.

Did Anne care for him?

That thought disturbed him greatly. He had made a point in the last few years to never show her any undue attention beyond common courtesy and always maintained the highest propriety around her so as not to encourage his aunt. Besides, the few times they had conversed, they had discussed her health or Georgiana's health. Neither topic meant to inspire romance.

Obviously his aloofness and reserve had been in vain and he would be honestly grieved if he had hurt his cousin in any way … but he would still never marry her.

Regardless, he had sent a missive off to his uncle explaining everything that had occurred and warned that he would not be moved to forgive his aunt unless she apologized to Elizabeth. He also explained that he would no longer be handling his aunt's estate business nor using Darcy money to subsidize her income when she exceeded her budgeted and allotted amount. Which was often. Besides, as head of the family, shouldn't he, as her brother, be the one handling her finances regardless?

Well, that was one duty he was pleased to dispense with, truth be told. It had been a headache from the first. Now it was his uncle's headache.

He yawned as the lateness of the hour and the excitement of the day finally caught up with him. He hadn't slept in the carriage on the way to London; he and Elizabeth had spent the entire ride trying to clear up six months worth of misunderstandings.

He had been mortified to discover she had overheard him make that blasphemous comment at the assembly and had apologized sincerely and profusely. When he explained about Wickham and the incident at Ramsgate as the reason for his unhappiness that night, she readily forgave him.

Elizabeth had been appalled and mortified when she realized how she had misjudged both he and Wickham and would have continued to berate her own flawed judgment if he hadn't silenced her with a kiss … which led to another … until they were finally driven to opposite sides of the carriage to preserve what little modesty and decorum they still retained.

Which hadn't been much.

He respected her too much to take her innocence in a moving carriage on the road to London … but it had been a close thing.

Good Lord, that woman tested his resolve to remain a gentleman in her presence. She drove him to heights he never knew existed until his restraint and sense of propriety crumbled like dust at his feet.

They either needed to remain apart until the wedding or marry quickly. He was going to press for the latter, but either way he would not part from her. He wouldn't risk letting her change her mind and back out. She seemed eager for the marriage, and very eager for the marriage bed, but she still had not spoken of love.

He would marry her regardless, but he longed for her to love him as he did her.

He decided that he would just have to court her until she fell in love with him. He could be romantic … couldn't he? Isn't that what women wanted? But then, Elizabeth wasn't like other woman, so did that mean …

He took a deep breath and decided that he needed to sleep, thinking about this any longer tonight would not help him. He was scheduled to call at Gracechurch Street in the morning to see Elizabeth's uncle, but he wanted to make a stop at Bingley's townhouse on the way.

Maybe he could even convince Charles to accompany him to Longbourne. Hopefully Charles would forgive him once he confessed his role in the plan to separate he and Miss Bennet, but regardless he owed it to both she and Charles to try and make things right. He only hoped Caroline wasn't home. After the fiasco today, he wasn't up to another confrontation with a prickly woman.

He yawned once more before snuggling deeper into his pillow wishing Elizabeth was here with him.

Soon she would be with him every night.

Elizabeth.

His Elizabeth.

For the first time in a very long time he fell asleep with a smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

She watched as the distance between trees got shorter and knew it meant they were finally getting closer to her country home. The trip from London to Meryton wasn't a particularly long one, but the ensuing hours would provide her some much-needed time of quiet reflection that had been sorely lacking in the past two days … and she suspected would be nonexistent once they returned home with their unexpected news.

Her eyes fell on the lovely visage her sister Jane presented even in slumber; the small smile that graced her lips bore witness to the subject of her dreams. She smiled to herself, pleased beyond measure for her dearest sister whose happiness meant everything to her.

Mr. Darcy had followed through on his promise and spoken to Charles, who had dropped everything upon hearing the news that his 'angel' still loved him and had accompanied her fiancé (she still got shivers just saying it … Mr. Darcy, her fiancé) when he came to call at her uncle's house yesterday.

The joy that had suffused Jane's face when she saw Mr. Bingley had warmed her heart and brought tears to her eyes. She couldn't help but be touched by the pained look that briefly crossed the face of Mr. Darcy when he realized the extent of his folly in keeping the two lovers apart.

It didn't take long for Jane and Mr. Bingley to fall back on old patterns and sequester themselves in the corner of the drawing-room enclosed in their own little cocoon; oblivious to anyone or anything around them. By the end of the visit it was clear that all was forgiven and the two were of a like mind.

All that remained was to obtain Mr. Bennet's permission to marry and it was determined that Mr. Bingley … Charles, as he had begged her to address him now that they would be brother and sister, and Mr. Darcy, would be spending an additional day or two in London to procure the necessary licenses and financial documentation to present to their father. They would travel to Meryton as soon as they were able.

Lizzy was happy for Jane and Charles, truly she was, but there was a small part of her that felt her sister had forgiven him too easily and with too little explanation. She had tried to broach the subject last night as they were getting ready for bed, but it was nearly impossible to get a word of sense out of Jane, lost as she was in her dreams of love and weddings and babies. She had finally given up after being scolded for 'worrying over matters of no concern when the world was filled with all that was good and beautiful.'

How could she press her point after that proclamation?

She sometimes worried for Jane; her sweet, innocent Jane, who saw the best in everyone and refused to think ill of anyone. She prayed with all her heart that nothing would ever force her to lose that sweetness and that the world wouldn't give her any trials or hardships she could not handle. She hoped Charles would be the man she needed, but sometimes he seemed just as oblivious to the realities of the world as Jane was.

She knew that wasn't fair of her, and although she probably couldn't have found a man more _suited_ to her dear Jane, she would have preferred one that was _better_ for her. While she liked him tremendously, and she knew he would be a good husband and father, Charles had never struck her as a 'shelter in the storm' type of man, someone Jane could lean on in times of trouble. He had already proven he was easily led and manipulated both by Mr. Darcy and especially his vindictive and spiteful sisters, would he be as easily taken in by someone else?

At least she could comfort herself with the surety that he would never mistreat Jane, and that he adored her helped ease Lizzy's remaining fears.

She sighed heavily, for better or worse it was a fait accompli and all she could do was be there for her sister if the need ever arose, and she was fairly certain Mr. Darcy would be there for Charles as well.

Mr. Darcy.

Her Mr. Darcy.

Even his name caused her insides to quiver and she swallowed heavily. The last few days had been such a whirlwind of emotions that she still hadn't caught her breath, and when she thought about her wanton behavior with Mr. Darcy she wanted to burst with the shame of it.

How could she have let him take such liberties with her? How could she have taken such liberties with him?

How had she gone from disliking the sight of him to craving his touch?

And why couldn't she control herself around him?

It was like for the first time in her life she had tasted chocolate. Sweet, delicious, melt in your mouth chocolate. She knew eating too much was bad for you, but she couldn't seem to get enough.

Mr. Darcy was her chocolate.

She had always known she felt things more strongly than most; had a zest for life that her mother was repeatedly telling her was both unladylike and unseemly in one her age, but she had always disregarded those opinions she didn't agree with.

Her Aunt Gardiner had even joked that it would take a strong man to tame her … and it seemed she was correct.

Except instead of taming her and her passionate nature, he had unleashed it and set if free. She was like a wild child running barefoot and naked through an unknown landscape with no idea how she got there or how to get back out … and yet she had never been happier. Never felt more free; thankful to be released from the constraints of proper decorum.

But she wasn't free, and regardless of her desires, she was bound by the dictates of polite society that governed a lady's behavior, and she had behaved badly. She had defied every acceptable societal stricture and flaunted propriety simply because she allowed her desires to overrule her rational mind.

She was ashamed at her behavior, but she didn't … couldn't … regret it.

She had been almost too afraid to face him when he had called at her uncle's house, convinced he must think her beneath him after the way she had acted. She had railed at him about their equality and then had proven she was no better than the low-born slatterns found in the taverns of London. The shame of it had stained her cheeks and consequently she could barely speak two words to him.

Her uncle, suspicious that his normally effervescent niece had acted as meek and quiet as a church mouse, and noticing the furtive looks between her and Mr. Darcy, had quickly taken matters into his own hands and called the man in question into his study determined to get answers.

As Jane and Charles were oblivious to anything else occurring in the room, her aunt had taken that opportunity to try to seek some answers for herself; she was quite unprepared for the outpouring of words and emotions her queries evoked in her favorite niece, and had listened in growing surprise, amusement and more than a little concern as the incredible tale unfolded. Her aunt had then excused both of them, although they doubted either Jane or Charles noticed their absence, and proceeded to her bedroom for a more detailed discussion.

Her aunt was relieved to hear that she had not been completely compromised by Mr. Darcy and although she grudgingly admitted to going farther that propriety allowed during her own courtship, she was adamant that the improper behavior between she and Mr. Darcy must be curtailed until after the wedding lest her reputation, and by default, her family's reputation suffer.

She spent the next hour crying out her shame and confusion over her licentious behavior, but was grateful her aunt finally relaxed enough to answer her many questions and concerns without censure, but making it clear she couldn't condone any further liberties until after marriage.

Her aunt made her realize that while pleasurable feelings between a man and a woman in the marriage bed was quite preferred, it was not usually the norm, and passion of the sort she shared with Mr. Darcy was rare indeed and to be cherished … _after_ marriage.

Her aunt's guidance and advice enabled her to forgive herself for her previous misconduct and she made a vow to behave with the utmost propriety and decorum from then forward … assuming Mr. Darcy still wanted to marry her.

Her fears had been resolved almost as soon as she and her aunt reentered the drawing-room where her uncle immediately pulled her aside and informed her that Mr. Darcy had made his intentions towards her very clear and after admitting, under interrogation, to taking some liberties with her person, expressed his deep love for her and their shared desire for a short engagement.

The relief she felt that Mr. Darcy still wanted her was immense and at that moment their eyes met and his smile lit up her heart.

Her uncle had been teary eyed when he hugged her and whispered in her ear how thankful he was that she had found such a good man who obviously loved her greatly and would provide well for her.

After speaking to her uncle, she was finally able to find the courage to approach Mr. Darcy, secure in the knowledge that he didn't hold her previous behavior against her. But almost as soon as she got near him she felt that familiar pull; as if he were the sun and she was entering his orbit, drawn to him against her will … or very willingly in her case. She saw his eyes widen and flare and knew he felt it too.

Then he gave her one of _those_ looks.

The one that melted her insides and made her knees weak.

His eyes seemed to bore into her, breaking through the ramparts and shattering the fortress around her heart. Warmth flooded her and she suddenly knew what love felt like. Love was this man. This wonderful, virile, beautiful man.

She loved him!

And he was hers.

They didn't need words to communicate, for she saw the moment he recognized what was shining from her eyes and his widened first in surprise, then joy, and finally with an answering love that blazed so strong and true it seemed to fill the room with its intensity.

She didn't know how long they had stood lost in each others gaze, but eventually the world intruded and they realized they needed to bow to social dictates and act as a respectable couple while in the company of others. She gave him a last secret smile and then they joined her family for tea.

She smiled now as she remembered the feel of his lips on her hand as he bade her farewell last night. The way they lingered as if trying to imprint his breath into her very skin, but it was the soft flick of his tongue on her knuckles that sent a shiver through her and she quickly pulled her hand back before she acted impetuously … again.

The smile he wore as he straightened up told her he had seen her reaction and his eyes conveyed his desire to do more … much more … at a later date.

Oh, he was a devil come to tempt her … and it was working.

But she would not give in to temptation, would not give in to her desires. She would be strong and stand firm … firm like the muscles that rippled across his back … firm like the way he held her when they kissed … firm like …

_NO!_

She would not think about that! She wouldn't allow herself to think about those things … she couldn't.

Since she obviously had no self-control when he was near, she would just have to make sure they were never alone. With four sisters it shouldn't be too hard to find a chaperone for when they were together, right?

She clasped her now shaking hands together tightly on her lap and forced herself to think of something … _anything_ … else.

She turned her thoughts to her cousin Mr. Collins; thoughts of him could cool even the most heated ardour.

But thinking about that man invariably led her back to musings on her dear friend and wondered if Charlotte and Maria were, at this very moment, discussing her impending marriage to Mr. Darcy. For someone who claimed not to be interested in romance, Charlotte was, it seemed, the only one to notice that Mr. Darcy was partial to her … _if only she had listened!_

At least Charlotte wouldn't be alone with the angry parson and his patroness as Maria hadn't wanted her visit cut short and decided to remain for the rest of the month instead of leaving with she and Mr. Darcy. Charlotte's younger sister was good friends with Kitty and Lydia and loved only three things; officers, balls and gossip and she had provided ample fodder for gossip with her behavior towards Lady Catherine.

She suspected Maria had stayed to get first hand news after the horrid scene at Rosings Park, but maybe she was being too harsh on her, she seemed to be doing that quite frequently of late. Maria could be sweet, but they were not, and probably never would be, anything other than acquaintances connected by Charlotte.

She wondered briefly what was happening in Kent, but knew it was probably better if she remained ignorant. She doubted she would be welcomed back at either Rosings Park or the parsonage any time soon, and would hate to be the cause of any discord between Charlotte and her husband.

Mr. Collins had made it abundantly clear where his loyalties lie after 'the incident' as he called it, at Rosings. He announced that as she had insulted his benevolent patroness, so had she insulted him and declared that he would not lower himself to speak to her again until she repented her wicked ways and elevated airs and begged both his and Lady Catherine's forgiveness … preferably on bended knee and with all appropriate humility. Until such time, he had proclaimed loudly and haughtily, he would not even deign to speak to her, and neither would his wife.

Of course for the rest of her time there, his mutterings and recriminations regarding her behavior could be heard clearly by all.

That man was such a toad!

She would have truly grieved for her friend, but for some reason unbeknownst to her, Charlotte seemed genuinely content with her lot as Mrs. Collins. She was therefore determined to be happy for her friend, even if she couldn't imagine a worse fate for herself. How she meekly tolerated Lady Catherine's interference into every aspect of her life and managed her husband so well was a complete wonder.

She doubted things would be tranquil in Kent for a while and hoped this wouldn't affect her friend too seriously or forfeit their longtime friendship.

She would like to say that she regretted her words to Lady Catherine, but that would be a falsehood. While she regretted that she had been the cause of Mr. Darcy's break with his aunt; that vile woman's words and accusations had been so spiteful and mean that she doubted she would ever desire to set eyes on the exalted lady again. As far as she was concerned, Mr. Darcy was better off without such a bitter, angry woman in his life, but she would support whatever decision he made concerning a reconciliation with her in the future.

Besides, by then she would be his wife and there would be little Lady Catherine could do about it.

His wife!

Soon she would be Mrs. Darcy!

She felt an especially hard jolt as the carriage hit a rut in the road, but Jane slept on, oblivious to any disturbance. She wished she could sleep; neither had gotten much rest last night as Jane's happiness could not be contained, and when Jane had finally paused in her seemingly endless litany of extolling Charles' many virtues and exceptional qualities, she had confessed about her engagement to Mr. Darcy, which had incited an even longer round of questions and explanations.

Jane was very reluctant to accept that her feelings for Mr. Darcy had changed so drastically and kept asking if she was sure this was what she wanted. After the fifth such query, she had feigned a large yawn and begged to be allowed to go to sleep. In truth, she was a bit annoyed at her sister's reluctance to accept that she was happy, when she herself had taken Charles back into her heart with almost no questions asked.

Fortunately, she could never stay angry with Jane for long, and hoped her sister would just accept her choice and support her. She suspected she would need all the encouragement she could get as soon as her family learned about the engagement.

Her uncle had written their father explaining all that had occurred and how he found both men to be of good character and sufficient means and he wholeheartedly approved of both engagements, but she doubted her father would accept things so easily … at least not where she was concerned. She appreciated her uncle's efforts on her behalf, but suspected it would be for naught.

She wished now that she hadn't been so vocal and adamant about her dislike of Mr. Darcy, but it couldn't be helped. She would just have to explain to her father how her feelings had changed and how she had seriously misjudged and misinterpreted his words and actions … and _never_ mention what happened to change her feelings.

Somehow, she doubted her father would find much amusement in the story.

They would have to be extremely careful that no hint of impropriety reached her father's ears, or there would be no peace for anyone. Her mother, however, would just be thankful that her least favorite daughter had landed such a rich husband when she had despaired of her ever finding a man that would have her with her 'weird bookishness and wild ways.'

Of course, her mother will most likely rejoice at Jane's goodwill, and proclaim loudly to anyone who would listen, and many who would not, that she always knew her most beautiful daughter would catch such a rich and handsome man. Then she will waste no time visiting her sister, Mrs. Long, and Mrs. Lucas to impart the good news and will probably speak of little else but dresses, cakes and lace in the coming weeks.

She wondered how Mr. Darcy would feel about eloping?

She knew that her sister had always dreamed of a perfect wedding with colorful and fragrant flowers proliferating every surface of the church and a beautiful dress and veil with yards of imported lace. Jane had shared her secret desires with her ever since they were little, and now she would have the opportunity to make her dream come true.

She, however, had never given her wedding much thought, because she never truly believed she would meet a man whom she could truly love, and despite all her many quirks, would love her deeply as well. Now that she had, her preference tended towards a small simple gathering of friends and family, but knew her mother would try to override her desires and turn the event into a spectacle designed to emphasize Mr. Darcy's wealth and make her neighbors envious.

She suspected things would get unpleasant very soon.

She _really_ needed to find out if Mr. Darcy knew the way to Gretna Green …

... just as a precaution.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This story is one about intensity and making choices based on those feelings. I have intensified all of Darcy and Elizabeth's interactions, emphasizing what I see as the strongest facets of their personalities. I have likewise done the same with the secondary characters as well, and some may not like what personality quirks I have chosen to highlight. I am sorry if you feel I am being too harsh, but I am simply exploring facets of each personality as I see them or how my main characters interpret them.**

Darcy grimaced as he downed yet another brandy and contemplated how very badly he wanted to just grab Elizabeth and run away to Gretna Green with her, and damn her family and the bloody mess this week had become.

Especially Mrs. Bennet.

Good God that woman could drive a man to drink!

He had always secretly criticized Mr. Bennet for hiding himself away in his library and allowing his wife and daughters to behave as outlandishly or improper as they liked without deigning to correct or control them, as was his duty. His refusal to take responsibility for their conduct and wild behavior while all the while laughing at their antics and foolishness screamed of blatant laziness and hypocrisy.

Yet, after only five days … five bloody days with that bloody irritating woman, he could very well understand Mr. Bennet's desire to hide himself away from the rest of his household.

He had arrived in Hertfordshire only three days behind Elizabeth, anxious to see her again after being parted for what felt like an eternity while he gathered the necessary paperwork in order to be married … and guide Charles in doing the same.

Thankfully, Caroline and Louisa had both still been visiting their aunt in Scarborough, so were not around to cause any distractions … or raise a fuss.

The legalities finally completed, special license's obtained, and household staff duly notified, they wasted no time riding to Longbourn. Unfortunately, when they arrived they were told that not only was Mr. Bennet apparently indisposed and unable to see them, but that both Jane and Elizabeth were out visiting a sick tenant and were not expected back for many hours.

They were, however, greeted enthusiastically by Mrs. Bennet… well, Charles was, he was only grudgingly welcomed and then immediately ignored.

Obviously the news of Charles' reconciliation with Jane had been cause for celebration and rejoice and Mrs. Bennet continually gushed about what a fine, handsome, _rich_ gentleman Charles was and how she just knew her beautiful Jane would save them all when Mr. Bennet died and left her destitute.

Charles beamed at her praise.

Darcy felt slightly sick.

It was obvious that Mr. Bennet had shared the news about Jane and Charles, but had not mentioned his attachment to Elizabeth for some unknown reason. He doubted Mrs. Bennet would be treating him so uncivilly had she known.

Regardless, he vowed to make up for his previous behavior, so in between her over excited ramblings about local families and over effusive … and frankly, nauseating … flattery to Charles, he made a concerted effort to engage her in conversation. His repeated attempts were met with clipped and barely civil responses before she would pointedly turn back to Charles and rudely ignore him again.

He took a deep breath and made a sincere inquiry about her daughter's health; he received a curt 'fine' for his effort.

He took _another_ deep breath and asked after Mr. Bennet. She simply waved her hands and muttered 'pish-posh' … although he wasn't quite sure if that was meant to be good or bad.

Finally, recalling a topic he remembered her discussing once with Caroline, and pointedly ignoring the surprised look on Charles' face, he complemented her on her excellent taste in lace … and she finally … finally … deigned to give him a smile while simpering her thanks.

Although she then launched into a thirty minute rant about the way the price of lace had escalated recently at the local modiste, even though it didn't carry any lace even half as fine as could be found in London at a cheaper price … or something …

He didn't think she would appreciate a discussion on the economics of small shops and supply vs demand, so he remained silent and smiled benignly until she was finished. He noticed that Charles had a glazed look in his eyes and hoped he at least _appeared_ to be interested in what she had to say.

Although, if one were to ask him the content of her long speech, he would be hard pressed to recall anything beyond simply … lace?

They were finally able to excuse themselves, claiming weariness from the long ride, and made plans to call again the next day to see Mr. Bennet. That pronouncement sent her again into raptures about how wonderful Charles was, and it was another twenty minutes before they were finally on their way to Netherfield.

That woman was exhausting, and he thanked God Elizabeth wasn't anything like her.

Elizabeth. Lord how he missed her.

The next day they were up with the dawn and on their way to Longbourn after a quick breakfast, both eager to make their engagements official. They had drawn straws and agreed that Charles would go first to seek permission, and he hoped Elizabeth would be around so he would have some idea where things stood before speaking to her father.

They were shown into the front parlor and told the family was still at breakfast, but they declined joining them and agreed to wait for an audience with Mr. Bennet. It took almost an hour until Hill finally appeared and informed Charles that Mr. Bennet would see him in the library.

Darcy paced impatiently, eager to speak to Elizabeth, but it was another fifteen minutes before Mrs. Bennet and her daughters finally joined him.

Elizabeth walked in last, looking very nervous and avoiding his eyes, which he immediately took as a bad sign. He was greeted by Mrs. Bennet and made polite inquiries into her and her family's health all the while covertly watching Elizabeth to gauge her reaction to him. He was finally able to excuse himself and join her at the window where he hoped they could talk, but no sooner had he reached her than Mrs. Bennet called him back over and began peppering him with questions about his estate and his house in London.

He tried to keep his impatience from showing after working so hard the previous day to correct her ill opinion of him, but it was a close thing. He needed to talk to Elizabeth before he spoke to her father, and unfortunately he couldn't just come out and say that, as much as he would like to.

He found himself wondering how couples ever found the opportunity to really get to know one another to determine if they were suited to each other with all the social constraints placed on them, not to mention all the rules regarding what was considered appropriate conversation.

It was no wonder there were so many unhappy marriages among his acquaintances.

He found himself very thankful for Hunsford. Instead of being a complete disaster, it had allowed he and Elizabeth to cast away the restrictions placed upon them while in polite company, and truly speak their minds. Loudly and passionately, but it had been honest … among other things.

Mrs. Bennet, now having a much more favorable opinion of him and his ten thousand pounds a year, began evaluating him as a potential match for one of her daughters and took it upon herself to make him aware, in nauseating detail, how very 'lively and spirited' her youngest daughter Lydia was, and 'what a fine womanly form she had, unlike some she could name,' and how, 'with the right husband, she would make some lucky man a very suitable wife.'

Damn that woman and her constant barbs aimed at Elizabeth, had she no shame? It took all of his control not to blanch at the suggestion.

Marry Lydia Bennet?

The woman was clearly insane.

He looked towards Elizabeth hoping she would step in and correct her mother's misapprehension that he was available, but her shoulders were shaking and her head was down. He wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying, but God help that woman if she had reduced Elizabeth to tears.

He interrupted Mrs. Bennet, rather rudely he realized, but he doubted the woman would recognize good manners as she didn't seem to have any herself, and made a pretense of admiring the scenery to join Elizabeth once more, pointedly ignoring Mrs. Bennet's suggestion that if he wanted scenery he should allow Lydia to give him a private tour of the gardens.

Did she think he was completely stupid? Or did she simply believe he would be easily led?

As he drew closer to Elizabeth, he couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight glinted off her hair and face giving her an ethereal glow. Her beautifully shaped shoulders were shaking with, he was relieved to discover, suppressed mirth. When she looked up at him he saw that her eyes were sparkling brighter than the stars on a clear night and her lips were parted and she was biting her plump bottom lip to contain her laughter at, he was sure, the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

_My God, she was beautiful!_

Fine womanly form indeed! He, unlike much of society who believed 'extra padding' on a woman was more alluring and desirable, preferred a woman who was fit and healthy without tending towards fat to fill out her dresses. He personally thought Elizabeth had a fine shape. He had traced the curve of her hip and felt the firmness of her thighs, which even through her dress had enticed and enthralled him.

Oh yes, she had a very lovely form, one he was anxious to explore every inch of in exacting detail.

He had forced down the overwhelming desire to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless and was pleased to see by the longing look she gave him that she felt the same need, before she quickly broke eye contact and looked down, her flushed face giving away her … embarrassment? … Desire?

He closed his eyes and had to take a few deep breaths to bring himself back under control. It took a few minutes to get his … interest … subdued, but he finally succeeded. Of course the screeching of her sisters and ranting of her mother were quite effective in helping cool his ardour as well.

He tried to speak quietly to her about her father over the sound of the two youngest Miss Bennets' arguing loudly about a bonnet, Miss Mary Bennet pounding out a loud and off-key tune on the pianoforte and Mrs. Bennet lamenting loudly about her nerves, but it was difficult.

How Jane could quietly sew, serenely oblivious to the chaos around her was a mystery.

He had to get he and Elizabeth away from this madhouse.

The sooner the better.

Elizabeth was finally able to quietly inform him that despite her assurances that her feelings were completely altered from what they had been, her father was quite against the marriage between them and she had been anxiously awaiting his arrival so they could both talk to him together. Maybe then he would see that they loved each other.

She admitted that her father had shared the news from her uncle's letter with Mrs. Bennet, but only in regards to Charles and Jane, and every time she had tried to discuss their engagement with her father he avoided her and had even refused to admit her into the library.

Elizabeth shamefully confessed, that while she knew it was selfish, she was getting tired of hearing about Jane's good fortune while she was forced to be silent about her own. She had had enough though, and informed him, that if he hadn't arrived today, she had been determined to take the matter into her own hands and force the issue with her father. He couldn't ignore her forever, and frankly she found his behavior quite childish and planned to tell him so.

It was at this point that Charles entered the room and immediately went to greet Jane and whisper something to her. She beamed as Charles then announced that Mr. Bennet had given them permission to marry in six months time.

Six months?

Six months!

He was relieved to see the same look of horror on his beloved Elizabeth's face, and knew she didn't want to wait that long either. Would Mr. Bennet force them into a long engagement as well?

Almost as if reading his mind, Elizabeth whispered that worse case she would come of age in three months time and they could marry then with, or without, her father's blessing. A sad look had come over her face at the thought however, and he knew she was very close to her father and it would affect her greatly if her father forced her hand, or continued to disregard her choice as he had done thus far.

He had wanted so badly to hold her and take away her pain, but he knew he could not … at least not yet. After they were married he planned to always be there for her when she needed him … or needed anything.

He shook his head and poured himself another brandy as he suppressed the anger he still felt towards Mr. Bennet for the way he had spoken to he and Elizabeth when they had gone seeking his permission. For someone who seemed to take almost no interest when his youngest daughters or wife were making public spectacles of themselves, he was intensely overprotective, and almost obstinately stubborn when it came to Elizabeth.

They had tried to explain how they had met again at Hunsford and once they had cleared up their earlier misunderstandings, had discovered they were in love and wished to marry. Mr. Bennet refused to believe that 'his Lizzy would ever consent to marry such a broodish and uncivil man,' and had accused him of 'using his riches and promises of fine carriages and grand estates to seduce her into accepting him, and that he would soon tire of her and throw her out on the street like the rest of his kind did to ladies that were beneath them.'

Good God, was that truly what that man thought of him? And how could he profess to know his daughter at all if he believed Elizabeth capable of such mercenary behavior?

If he didn't know better, he might have suggested that Mr. Bennet was jealous of him and didn't want any man to come along and usurp his position as the most important man in his favorite daughter's life. It disturbed him how selfish that man could be when it came to Elizabeth, but after much yelling, threats and even tears … Mr. Bennet had grudgingly given his consent.

Mr. Bennet finally capitulated after Elizabeth had stood before his desk, tears running down her cheeks, but head held high, and announced that he could either give his blessing and be a part of their lives or refuse it and they would simply run away and elope when she came of age in three months and he would never see them or any grandchildren ever again.

That had taken the wind out of her father's sails, and he almost felt sorry for the tired, defeated man who finally granted his permission before sinking heavily into his chair. Elizabeth had then informed him that they planned to marry in one month's time, before turning her back on her father, and back straight and held help high, led him from the room.

Instead of returning to the front parlour to join the others however, they excited the house and she led him to the back garden. They found a bench and he held her as his proud Elizabeth cried out her anger and grief at her father's obstinance and harsh words and at her own desperate ultimatum. He knew it was never easy to be forced to acknowledge that the father you idolized wasn't the paragon you imagined him to be.

He remembered when he made that realization about his own father, and it still caused him pain. His father's blindness when it came to George Wickham had always been a sore point, and he had died begging him to look after George. It was for his father's sake that he had covered for the scoundrel for so long … but the days of that were over. Ramsgate proved to him that George would never change, and had no scruples, especially where ladies or money were concerned.

He knew he needed to address the George issue with the locals somehow. He needed to make things right before that blackguard hurt someone else. He especially feared that once George got word of his impending marriage to Elizabeth, he would find a way to try to make trouble. He worried most about the two youngest Bennet girls. They were silly, flirtatious and could be easily led astray, making them easy pickings for George.

He would contact his cousin Richard; he would know how best to proceed.

Darcy poured himself another brandy and let his thoughts drift back to Elizabeth.

He had savored the feeling of holding her in his arms but wasn't overwhelmed with desire like he usually was anytime she was near. Instead he found himself hurting along with her, ready and willing to do anything to alleviate her pain if he could.

Couldn't her father see how much he had hurt her? Was his own comfort more important than his daughter's happiness?

They stayed like that for a long time, yet not nearly long enough to satisfy his need to hold her, and when she was presentable again, they went in to share their news with the rest of the family.

God, he wished he could have taken her away that night. Her mother was awful … that bloody woman couldn't say one nice thing about Elizabeth, the closest she came was grudgingly admitting that 'at least she was smart enough to land the rich Mr. Darcy and not turn him away like she had with the perfectly lovely Mr. Collins.'

He snorted into his drink.

Any mother that considered Mr. Collins 'perfectly lovely' had to be either desperate or delusional in his opinion. Had that toad really thought himself worthy of his Elizabeth? Had Elizabeth ever seriously considered marrying that man?

It did make sense from a purely mercenary perspective he supposed. The house was entailed to the cousin so if one of the daughters married him the mother and other unmarried daughters would always be provided for. And while he would admit that Jane was beautiful in a colorless sort of way, she couldn't hold a candle to his Elizabeth, whose beauty was vibrant and full of life.

He completely understood Mr. Collins choosing Elizabeth over her less appealing sisters, but was extremely thankful she had refused him. He was even grudgingly thankful to her father for not forcing her into a match against her will, although he suspected it was more for selfish reasons than any other.

He surprisingly found himself slightly more favorably disposed towards Mr. Bennet with that knowledge … very slightly. The man still treated him like he had the plague and spoke to him only when necessary, which didn't bother him, but he could not forgive the way he continued to pain his supposed 'favorite' daughter.

Her mother, however, was a different kettle of fish altogether.

Mrs. Bennet had finally accepted that 'yes, he was absolutely positive he would rather marry Elizabeth than her youngest daughter Lydia' and that 'no, he wouldn't change his mind as he was very much in love with Elizabeth and quite determined', she had sighed heavily and muttered that 'it was too bad that being rich didn't necessarily give one good taste.'

Completely oblivious to the fact that her daughter had heard her hurtful remarks, and watching Elizabeth quickly suppress the pain the words had caused, it had taken all of his self-control not to give the horrid woman a piece of his mind. Seeing his distress on her behalf, Elizabeth had ruefully shook her head and silently begged him to just let the matter drop.

He couldn't wait to get her away from people who did not appreciate how wonderful she was.

He swallowed the last of his brandy but knew he had better not indulge in any more or he would pay the price in the morning. He was just so frustrated with the lot of them.

The father barely spoke, Miss Mary spent all her time either quoting sermon or playing truly horrible music … although he suspected it was just a cry for attention from the most overlooked daughter of the bunch, and he almost felt sorry for her … the two youngest girls didn't have an ounce of sense between them and should have been sent away to school to try to learn some, and Mrs. Bennet was … well, there were no words for what she was.

She had thrown a conniption when she realized he and Elizabeth were to be married in less that a month and had rather desperately and loudly refused to even consider planning a wedding in less than six months, especially one befitting his wealth and stature. She had even tried wailing and pleading with Mr. Bennet to force them to wait, but Mr. Bennet had simply informed her it was out 'of his hands' before shutting himself up in his library once more.

He knew her mother's ranting and her fathers coldness were wearing heavily on Elizabeth and he prayed that Mr. Bennet would eventually realize how much he was hurting his daughter by ignoring her, and talk to her again.

As for Mrs. Bennet, there wasn't much he could do there, as the woman seemed completely oblivious to the fact that her words were hurting her daughter, except try to counteract some of the hurt and work to convince her at every opportunity how special and loved she was.

And oh, how he loved her!

She had never said as much, but he suspected that Jane's behavior was bothering her as well. Elizabeth always seemed to be on the outside looking in and it almost broke his heart, but bloody propriety made him unable to show her the love and affection he longed to shower on her, or to be able to comfort her or even speak openly to her as he so wished to do.

Jane and Charles were understandably ecstatic now that they were together again and soon to be married, but their wedding was months away and yet Jane and her mother spent almost every available minute discussing flowers, wedding dress patterns, fabrics, and above all lace … dear God, how they carried on about lace!

And Charles simply sat and watched 'his angel' with such a besotted look on his face that sometimes he just wanted to shake him.

He couldn't change either of the parents, but he would take care of his Elizabeth, and grabbing a piece of paper and quill, he began to write.

He quickly finished his letters and set them out to be sent by express post in the morning. He just hoped his sweet Elizabeth didn't receive grief over his decisions. She had enough to deal with as it was.

His strong, brave, beautiful Elizabeth.

He knew that she credited her and Jane's manners and character to their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner's example and tutelage, and after spending a week in close contact with her family, he suspected she was correct. He was therefore determined to do something for the Gardiners to show his appreciation for the unconditional love and acceptance they had always shown his Elizabeth. He doubted she would be the woman she was today without their gentle influence.

There were some benefits to being wealthy after all. Darcy would have his solicitor make some discreet inquiries into Mr. Gardiner's business, maybe he could help boost it in some way.

He would also make sure the Gardiner's knew they had a standing invitation to Pemberley for Christmas and during the summer, and would be welcome at Darcy House when they were in residence. He would not be making the same offer to the Bennets.

Standing somewhat unsteadily, he made his way slowly to his room. Charles had retired hours ago and the house was dark and quiet; a welcome change from the Bennet household.

Thinking about his friend made him uneasy, and the guilt he still felt for his arrogance still ate at him.

Charles had finally forgiven him for his part in keeping he and Jane apart, but they had not yet recovered the closeness and easiness they had always enjoyed in the past.

Angry words had been exchanged, most of which he deserved, when he had confessed what he had done, but Charles had refused to believe his sisters would do anything to sabotage his happiness and had angrily told him so, refusing to accept his sincere apology that day in London. It wasn't until after Jane confirmed part of his story, that Charles had quietly accepted his apology and had written to his sister's demanding their presence.

He suspected things wouldn't be right between them until Charles finally confronted his sisters and demanded the truth about their part in the deception.

They had yet to arrive.

With only three weeks till the wedding, he prayed things would go smoother this next week. He wasn't sure how much more he, or Elizabeth, could … or would, take.

And if not, there was always Gretna Green.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: In this chapter the stress is starting to get to Lizzy and she has a bit of a pitty party. I wanted to add some discord to their rosy sunshine filled world, because nothing is ever that easy, but didn't want any angst between them, so have it coming from around them. **

**Thank you to all that have taken the time to post a review, even those without accounts that I can respond to. I really appreciate your support.**

She leaned back against the tree and looked out over the surrounding fields, the dew glistening like diamonds in the early morning light and savoring not only the beauty of her surroundings, but the solitude and quiet even more. Two things that were in very short supply of late.

Patience was another, and her mood today reflected that.

She loved her family, she really did … at least most of the time, but with only two weeks to go until the wedding she was afraid she might actually scream if things continued on the way they were, either that or give in to temptation and just run away with William.

William.

Even thinking his name brought on a rush of warmth. Her heart rejoiced that he loved her and her body sang out in joy in a melody only he could play. She still found it hard to be near him without wanting to feel his lips melting with hers as his tongue caressed hers in seductive promise of delights yet to be discovered.

The intensity of her need for him scared her yet at the same time made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before But time alone together had been almost impossible in the past two weeks.

Whether she was relived or not she had yet to determine.

They had managed a few stolen kisses and made a point to touch when they thought no one would notice; a brush of her hand during tea, his finger sliding sensuously up her spine when she least expected it, his hot breath against the sensitive skin on her neck as he looked over her shoulder at something, his lips brushing the knuckles of her hand every time he greeted her… all relatively innocuous occurrences, but each fed the heat inside her that seemed to burn hotter every day and she had to struggle to contain her reaction while in the company of others … something he knew very well, and would pay for … with interest.

Her sneaky, seductive William.

He had finally begun insisting she call him William, and she relished saying his name as it implied a certain level of intimacy … William … her sweet William. Of course he didn't appreciate being likened to the flower, but seemed to appreciate that she could find anything to laugh or joke about after the week that had just passed.

Only two more weeks until she became Mrs. Darcy.

It seemed so unreal to her at times, especially when she looked back on the previous half-year and how far they had come. She felt sometimes that she had become a completely different person in the past few weeks. Things that used to be a priority no longer seemed very important, and things she never imagined she would care about had now come to mean everything.

Unfortunately, she was also seeing her beloved family in a new light, and it wasn't a very flattering or pleasing one.

Her father, whom she had always loved above all else, had lately become a bitter stranger. Every time she attempted to talk to him he found an excuse to be elsewhere, and his attitude pained her deeply. She understood that he was angry that she had chosen William over him, but did he expect her to remain unmarried and at home with him forever?

Didn't he realize how much his defection and disapproval was hurting her?

It had hit her hard to realize her father wasn't the strong, principled, albeit slightly introverted man she had always believed him to be. When she had truly needed him to be on her side and support her, he had chosen the easy way out. Looking back she realized he took the easy way out of most things and that was one of the main reasons her mother and younger sisters were an embarrassment to be around at times … well, most times.

As much as it pained her to admit, she truly didn't have a place in the family anymore. Her role had always been as 'father's favorite,' the son he had never had. Now that title chaffed and no longer fit and she was anxious for her new role as wife, lover, mother and friend.

Why was she being treated like she had done something wrong just because she had fallen in love? And why was Jane still treated like a beloved daughter by her father when she had done the very same thing? Her father even made time to drink and chat with Charles, admittedly that didn't occur very often, as Charles couldn't seem to tear himself out of his Jane induced haze long enough to actually recognize anyone else, but he never made time for either her or William.

Was he purposely trying to drive a wedge between them?

She was also trying very hard not to hold it against either Jane or Charles, but it wasn't easy, especially as neither seemed at all inclined to make any effort on her or William's behalf to correct the situation, or even acknowledge there was a problem.

Was it her imagination, or was Jane enjoying her new role as 'father's favorite?' Was Jane more vain than she had ever given her credit for?

_NO!_

Jane was not like that. Not her Jane! She was just being overly sensitive and seeing problems were none existed. Jane was just caught up in her own happiness to the exclusion of everything else.

Charles, however, was being true to form by acting like a lovesick mooncalf and spent the entirety of his daily visits either talking with Jane, staring at Jane in wonder, or talking with one of the Bennet's _about_ Jane.

Was that kind of blind devotion even healthy?

Charles treated Jane as if she were an angel come down from heaven to shine upon him and bless him with her love … seriously, he had really said that … and Jane soaked up every bit of it. Jane thought Charles the most amiable, handsome, and gentle man she had ever known … but what about his character? Where was his depth? Was Jane truly happy being treated like spun glass?

And all of her attempts to discuss the issue with her sister were met with silence. Jane brushed aside her questions and concerns as if they were of no consequence and therefore didn't require any further consideration, and had recently taken to extinguishing the candle as soon as she entered their shared bedroom at night, claiming complete exhaustion.

Their nightly sharing of thoughts and confidences had always brought her comfort and been the highlight of her day, and now it seemed as if her sister was avoiding her even there. There may only be a few inches that separated them physically as they lay there each night, but the distance between them emotionally seemed to be getting wider every day.

Thinking about Jane and Charles seemed to bring more confusion than comfort lately, and it was disconcerting. She had always tried to make sense of the things around her, and her curiosity had been one of the things her father proclaimed to admire most about her. She simply wanted to understand … about everything.

Lizzy just didn't understand the kind of love her sister and Charles shared. And not understanding made her worry for her sister's future happiness.

She preferred the passionate kind of love she shared with William. She knew at times they would argue and disagree, after all, most of their relationship had been developed through debates and disagreements, and she recognized his faults and had not the slightest doubt he had realized far too many of hers by now, but what they had was real! Not an illusion or a love based on superficial physical attributes.

Not that she didn't appreciate William's physical attributes, because she did … immensely … but she didn't love him just because she wanted him to ravish her every time they were together … well, not really.

She knew without a doubt that she would always be able to count on him; he would be strong for her. He had an unsurpassed sense of duty and responsibility and she knew he would always provide for her and any children they had.

But most importantly, he would love her … passionately and completely … _and_ with his eyes wide open.

She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. She had tried hard all week to not be angry or resentful towards Jane and Charles, but it was very difficult. And as she wasn't normally an angry or resentful person, it bothered her all the more. Wasn't this supposed to be the happiest time of her life? Shouldn't everyone be rejoicing for her, and by default, _their_ good fortune?

Jane's wedding was over five months away, and yet her plans _still_ took priority over anything she or William wanted.

She knew it wasn't really Jane's fault for receiving all the attention, it had been that way all their lives after all, but Jane had always tried to deflect their mother's displeasure away from Lizzy if she could and now when she needed it the most, Jane seemed to be oblivious to her mother's neglect and subtle put downs.

And she felt her sister's indifference deepest of all.

But William wasn't immune to her mother's barbs. She could almost feel him wince every time her mother opened her mouth, and he spent most days with his jaw tightly clenched against speaking out in her defense. She had begged him not to say anything, hoping to keep the peace as much as possible during her remaining weeks at home, but she knew it bothered him immensely to see the way she was treated, and to be honest, she wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to remain civil to her family.

And how could she blame him? He alone was looking out for her best interests, he alone seemed to care that she was hurting. Was it any wonder she loved him so much?

She laughed bitterly at the irony of her angry defense of her family in Hunsford after he had criticized them for their behavior, yet here they were proving all his accusations correct.

She sighed heavily and absently chewed on a blade of grass, her eyes unfocused as her thoughts continued to churn.

When she was younger, she used to wonder if she had been adopted or had been a foundling discovered in the woods, so different and isolated did she feel from her family at times, and she used to make up elaborate stories about her 'real family.' She would entertain herself during long walks imagining different scenarios of eventually being rescued and reunited with them.

She had even shared her stories with Jane sometimes, who would then simply hug her and call her 'silly.'

But she had never been rescued … until now … and for better or worse this was her family and she couldn't let things get to her so much when she was only weeks away from a new life. She just wanted them to be happy for her, to be happy _with_ her.

Was that really too much to ask?

She angrily wiped the tears from her eyes and forced herself to stop thinking such maudlin thoughts. She loved her family and should put aside her own feelings and simply be happy for what she had instead of wishing for things that would never be.

Besides, there were too many other things to think about, and some of them were quite pleasant.

Since her mother had declared that there wouldn't be time to make the trip to London for her trousseau due to the fast approaching nuptials, William had taken matters into his own hands and had written to Madame Fontaine, the modiste in London that catered exclusively to the women in the first circles, and offered her twice her usual fees if she would consider coming to Longbourn to provide an entirely new wardrobe for his future wife.

The woman had agreed of course, but Lizzy wasn't sure if it was because she would have the first look at the young lady that had finally snared the illusive Mr. Darcy, or if she just couldn't resist the atrociously expensive commission.

Either way, she had arrived to much excitement on Tuesday and Lizzy had spent four very hectic days sequestered in her bedroom being measured, fitted and swathed in more different types, patterns and colors of material than she even realized existed … much to the extreme displeasure of Mrs. Bennet … who felt the woman should have made dresses for Jane or Lydia 'who were far prettier and would fill them out better.'

After the third such remark, Madame Fontaine had succinctly informed Mrs. Bennet that she was being paid to make clothes for the lovely future Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Darcy only, and would she and her other daughters kindly allow her to complete her task in peace.

Mrs Bennet had stalked off in anger to complain to Mr. Bennet, Lydia had left in anger as well, loudly exclaiming that she didn't want any of her 'hoighty-toighty' dresses anyway, closely followed by Kitty who nodded along in agreement, and Jane, whom she would have been more than happy to share her good fortune with, simply gave her a small smile before shaking her head and walking away.

Didn't they realize that William was the one paying for all of it? It wasn't like she had purposely hired the woman to rub her sister's noses in the fact that she was getting so much and they weren't, it was William trying to make up for her mother's slight, and she loved him for making the gesture and seeing to her needs, even though it only seemed to make things worse.

She had at first balked at the sheer number of dresses that had been ordered, but it was explained that not only would she need warmer clothes due to the colder climate in the North, but she would be expected to maintain a certain appearance as Mrs Darcy. Lizzy grudgingly acquiesced after William begged her to let him spoil her as she deserved.

William, in an attempt at a peace-offering, had ordered a generous selection of lovely fabrics and lace to be gifted to Mrs. Bennet and her other sisters to be delivered at the same time as her wedding gown. She suspected that would go a long way towards soothing her mother's ire.

He really was a good man.

The majority of the items would be delivered to Darcy House when they were finished in two weeks time, but the wedding gown and a few day gowns would be completed sooner and be delivered to Longbourn within the week by one of Madame Fontaine's assistants who would also make any last minute alterations that might be needed.

She was very excited to see how the dresses turned out, as the fabrics had been so soft and more beautiful than anything she had ever worn before, but it was the silky sheer nightgowns Madame Fontaine had helped her select that made her blush the most.

One of which William would see her wear on their wedding night.

She shuddered deliciously as her mind once again went to a happier place. A place filled with images and thoughts of William. Some were clear and vivid, while others were murkier, like imagining him without his clothes, or exactly what would happen when they were finally in bed together.

She _knew_ how male bodies were depicted in works of art, and she _knew_ where the important parts were supposed to go to complete the act, she was just fuzzy about the details. Did William have a smooth hairless chest like the statue of David or was he covered in hair like old Mr. Thompson?

She already knew he was quite muscular, and suspected he had a rather large … appendage … as she had felt it pressed against her stomach when they were kissing, although as she had no basis for comparison he may actually be smaller that most men … which would certainly explain why her mother and Aunt Phillips might complain about the pain.

She shuddered and forced disturbing images of her father or uncle Phillips approaching the bed with their enormous engorged appendages … eeewww!

No, she would be content if William was smaller than average, maybe then there would be no pain. Although she had felt it in a sense, she had no idea what it actually looked or felt like and that thought both scared and excited her. Besides, she couldn't imagine William doing anything that would knowingly hurt her.

Did he ever wonder about her?

She knew her body wasn't very feminine like Jane's or even Lydia's. Her breasts were too small for one, and while she had some curves, her legs were more muscular and toned than was considered ideal, and she lacked the extra padding in her hips and stomach that her mother regularly told her men desired in a woman.

She hoped William wouldn't be too disappointed. It was all the walking she did, it tended to keep off any extra weight no matter how much she ate, but she loved to walk and William would just have to love her regardless of her body's flaws. But would he still desire her once her saw her in the flesh?

She decided to think on something else instead of dwelling on things she could not change.

William had continued to subtly undermine her mother all week. Every time it was suggested that something 'couldn't possibly' be done in time for the wedding because it was happening too soon, he would make the greatest effort to correct the issue and save 'her nerves' from flaring up more often than they usually did.

When her mother complained that there wouldn't be enough good wine to be had in Meryton for the wedding breakfast, he had written to his housekeeper and had two cases sent from Darcy House.

Likewise, when she decided they would not be able to serve salmon, instead of ham as was done at all the best weddings, because the local fish monger didn't expect to have enough, William had ordered some to be delivered directly from London. The same with the flowers, the fresh fruit and he had even hired two additional kitchen hands to help prepare the food since 'she didn't have enough time to get everything done.'

William had reserved the church, rented an extra carriage for the ride _to_ the church and even arranged to send his personal carriage to retrieve the Gardiners from London next week. In short, William had planned their wedding while her mother made preparations for Jane's.

And no one besides her seemed to find anything wrong with it.

Frankly, she was surprised William had been so patient and accepting. As it stood, he had paid for and handled almost every detail of the wedding so far. All her mother had to do was make sure the food was cooked and served and get to the church on time.

She would have been incredibly mortified at her mother's reticence and craftiness if she wasn't trying so hard not to fall apart. She truly needed her Aunt Gardiner to come and help her get through these next two weeks, and maybe talk some sense into her mother.

She had sent off a long and detailed letter to her aunt explaining everything that had happened, and begging her to come sooner than next week. She truly needed her aunt's calm wisdom now.

And she prayed her uncle could reason with her father and get him to talk to her again. She was dreading the thought of leaving with things as they currently stood between them. Maybe he could even convince her father that William was a good man who was more than worthy of his daughter.

William, her dear patient William.

Oh Lord, how thankful she was that they had breached the distance between them that day, for in such a short time he had become the most important person in her world. He had become her strength and her comfort and she prayed that all this craziness would be over soon so they could begin their life together.

And she wouldn't even be able to see him today as Richard had arrived yesterday. William was being tight-lipped about his cousin's reason for arriving so early without Georgiana. She knew he was probably waiting to discuss things with his cousin before telling her, but if she had to guess, she suspected it had something to do with George Wickham.

George's regiment was expected back this week after some field training that had kept them afield during the last fortnight, and the last thing any of them needed was problems with Wickham, not with the wedding so close and Georgiana arriving next week. That poor girl should not have to face that wretched man after what he had tried to do to her.

William said he would try to see her tomorrow, but his business with his cousin may take a few days.

Just one less reason for her to get out of bed.

She sighed heavily when she realized how late it was getting. If she didn't get back soon she would never hear the end of it. She stood up and brushed off the back of her dress, reluctant to give up her moment of serenity.

She looked down and noticed the grass stains on her very wet hem and added yet another item to her list of failings as a daughter … the inability to remain clean and dry while 'traipsing hither and thither like a wild tomboy.'

Of course it was Mary she felt sorry for now, it would be she who would most likely bear the brunt of her mother's displeasure after Lizzy was gone. Maybe, given enough time and distance, her father's anger would soften towards her and she could convince him to allow Mary to go away to school.

She and William had discussed it and he had offered to pay for all three of her sisters to attend school if they desired, but she knew already what Lydia's answer would be, and knew her mother would not make Lydia go if she didn't want to. Kitty would do whatever Lydia did and her father would take the easy way out again and not force the issue.

Poor Mary. She would have to talk to William about alternate plans in case the school idea didn't work out.

She suddenly found the entire situation unexpectedly humorous, and before she knew it she was laughing so hard she had to hold on to the tree for balance. No matter how bad things became she had always found something to laugh about and if she allowed her melancholy to take hold she would just make both herself and William miserable, so it was time to let all the hurt and pain go and concentrate on things that brought her joy.

Because she did so dearly love to laugh and she had missed doing so.

And she would miss this place and even her mother; for in her own strange, slightly demented way, she suspected her mother did love her and want the best for her … or at least that's what she chose to believe.

For to believe anything else would be unfathomable.

And with her mood much improved and a skip in her step that hadn't been there earlier, she made her way back towards Longbourn with happy thoughts of beautiful dark-haired and dark-eyed little girls and boys.


	6. Chapter 6

He ran his hands wearily through his hair as he paced restlessly in front of Colonel Forrester's tent awaiting word from within. He looked over at his cousin who was staring at his hands deep in thought, and he didn't have the energy to interrupt him until he had to. There was no point anyway, what was done was done.

The past few days had been some of the longest he could remember and had been made even worse because he hadn't seen Elizabeth in four days. As much as it pained him to be separated from her, he was comforted by the knowledge that the Gardiners had arrived almost a week earlier than planned and would hopefully be able to bring some much needed sense to the Bennet household, and at least his Elizabeth had someone who would look out for her in his stead.

He stopped pacing and stared up at the night sky, which usually brought him a sense of peace but tonight only seemed to emphasize his own insignificance in the grand scheme of things. It was George's fault; having to deal with George always threw him off balance.

This was supposed to be a joyous occasion for both he and Elizabeth, but other than the few stolen moments they had shared, it had been a complete nightmare all around. He would have never in his wildest dreams imagined that Elizabeth could be treated so callously by her family, and the only reason he had remained silent about it for as long as he had was because Elizabeth had asked it of him.

He would do almost anything for her … well, except maybe invite the Bennets to Pemberley for Christmas … or for the summer. If he had his way, they would never get within a days ride of his home.

Even Charles, who had been after him recently to investigate smaller estates closer to Derbyshire for he and Jane, was starting to annoy him … and he didn't intend to look too hard or too close to home. A two or three days ride was close enough. He wasn't pleased with his friend and Jane lately either.

Besides, the Bennets would most likely be visiting the Bingleys and he didn't want to be close enough to them for a 'surprise visit' from the family.

He hated that he was still carrying so much resentment, but he was only human after all.

Darcy heard raised voices coming from inside the tent, but couldn't make out the words before they were abruptly cut off following a loud grunt of pain. It didn't sound like things were going well in there, but that was to be expected after all that had happened.

Richard had arrived five days ago, and while Darcy had been happy to see his normally jovial and carefree cousin, his visit so far had been anything but pleasurable.

He had been determined to get George Wickham out of his hair once and for all; his fear was that once George got wind of his engagement to Elizabeth (and in a town this size he was likely to find out within hours of being back) he would attempt something involving the Bennets in some way. He had, therefore, summoned his cousin in the hopes of developing a plan of attack so to speak, something Richard was remarkably good at.

The plan they agreed upon (after only one bottle of brandy) had been deceptively simple and they had been anxious to put it into action. After the close call with Georgiana, Richard had been eager to take matters into his own hands, but had allowed his concern for Georgiana's welfare to take precedence over revenge at the time. Now he would have his opportunity, and his eagerness was somewhat disconcerting.

First thing Monday morning, they had visited the local merchants and bought up all of George's debts, which amounted to a surprisingly large amount, the largest of which, as expected, was to the tavern. They also suspected, if he was true to form, that he would have quite a few 'gentleman's debts' with his fellow officers and that would work to their advantage as well.

Then there was the matter of the sixteen year old Apothecary's daughter who claimed she was with child and her father was finally able to get her to confess that George was the father, and that he had promised to marry her. He felt sorry for the chit, especially as that could have been Georgiana just as easily if God hadn't been working in his favor.

What was it with George and young girls?

Feeling somewhat guilty for the situation the poor gullible girl was in, he left the name and address of one of his tenants; an older couple who had never been blessed with children despite their great desire. He knew the Jennings would be more than happy to see the girl through her confinement and help see to the child afterward if she so desired. He also left a purse full of money for the journey and to buy some warmer clothes if the girl's family did decide to take him up on his offer.

Her father was almost speechless at Darcy's generosity, but he brushed off his effusive thanks in embarrassment. He had simply done what any other self-respecting gentleman would have done in the same situation, but he sincerely longed for the day when he could be done with cleaning up George's messes for good.

He did what he did in his father's memory and because he didn't want to see the local shopkeepers suffer because of unpaid debts, nor did he want to see the girl's life ruined for being naïve and easily taken in by an unscrupulous bastard.

His generosity had another unexpected side effect however, when word got around that the same Mr. Darcy that was engaged to Miss Elizabeth was taking care of the debts incurred by the son of his father's old steward, the general opinion of him began to shift and he noticed that people were actually smiling when they greeted him now.

It made a nice change, especially for Elizabeth's sake, even as it humbled him to realize how arrogant and unfriendly he must have seemed during his first stay in the area. Although he didn't imagine Mr. Bennet enjoyed hearing so many good things about his future son-in-law wherever he went; he seemed determined to believe ill of him.

He had far too many other things to worry about at the moment than Mr. Bennet's ire, however.

Colonel Forrester's regiment had been scheduled to arrive back sometime Monday afternoon and he and Richard had only waited thirty minutes after their return before requesting a meeting with the Colonel in the hopes of speaking to him before the men were released for the evening.

To say the Colonel had been surprised to see them would be an understatement, but as the story came out; Darcy held back no detail after receiving the Colonel's word of honor that no part of his personal history would be repeated, he was shocked and angered that an officer in his regiment could be such a rake and scoundrel and show such dishonor both for his rank and the uniform.

He accepted the receipts which proved how great Wickham's debt had become and began summoning the other officers one by one and questioning them about Wickham's conduct. It soon became apparent that George owed many of his fellow officers money and some of them were getting tired of his excuses and were more than ready to take matters into their own hands.

But it was when Major Davis finally admitted he had overheard George planning to 'finally have the feisty Bennet chit' that the Colonel decided they had more than enough evidence for a Court Martial and the order for Lieutenant Wickham's arrest was sent out.

Unfortunately, Major Davis wasn't sure which Bennet daughter George was referring to, so he was forced to acquiesce and allow the Colonel's men to handle things, although neither he nor Richard left for the night until they were assured with their own eyes that George was being held and a guard assigned to ensure he didn't escape.

The Court Martial was scheduled for 0900 hours the next morning.

They were both exhausted and since it was too late to call at the Bennets, they went back to Netherfield and directly to bed, relieved that their plan for George was well underway.

Neither noticed Charles wasn't back yet.

Darcy had great hopes of seeing the matter discharged and Wickham appropriately dealt with so he could finally get back to Elizabeth.

Alas, the best laid plans don't always work out as they are supposed to, as both men discovered to their great consternation upon arriving at Regimental Headquarters the next morning. The camp was in an uproar and it took a few minutes before they could get in to see the Colonel to get a clear picture of what exactly had occurred; both dreading, but already convinced it had something to do with George.

They listened in growing horror as the Colonel explained that sometime during the night Wickham, aided by his fellow officer, Lieutenant Denny, had escaped from custody and not only made his escape, but released all the regiment's horses and stole the trunk that contained the next six months payroll for the men.

Needless to say, the incensed Colonel had a very angry regiment to sort out, but declared heatedly that once Wickham and Denny were apprehended, they would now be facing the added charges of theft from the Crown and desertion, with the penalty being either death or transportation.

Knowing they were hours behind the deserters and suspecting they had headed to London to find a ship out until things cooled down, he and Richard traveled quickly back to Netherfield to make hasty preparations to depart and try to find them. He alerted the groom that they needed fresh horses, stopped off in the kitchen for a lunch sack and hurried to his room to change clothes and pack any necessary items for the journey, unsure how long they would be gone.

He also needed to make a quick stop at the Bennets to let Elizabeth know what was going on so she wouldn't wonder where he was. And it was with thoughts of leaving Elizabeth heavy on his mind, that he hurried down the stairs and almost collided with Caroline Bingley.

It took her less than three seconds to replace the thunderous expression on her face with a simpering look as soon as she saw who had almost barreled into her. It turned his stomach.

Thankfully, Richard arrived almost immediately, and after making their apologies for the hasty departure, ignoring her inquiries and pleas to stay longer, they were off.

Caroline had not been happy, and he almost felt sorry for Charles for having to deal with her, but then images of the Bennets filled his head, and his pity quickly evaporated. She was his sister after all, he controlled her allowance. If she gave him any trouble, all he had to do was cut her off … but he doubted Charles had it in him to do anything so drastic, regardless of whether she deserved it or not.

The fact that Charles found it nearly impossible to be in a bad mood for long, and preferred to find things to be happy about no matter where they were, had always been what he appreciated most about his oldest friend. It made such a refreshing contrast to his own seriousness, but there were moments when he wished Charles were more like himself, especially at times such as this, when action was most definitely needed to curtail his sister.

But he didn't have time to ponder Charles, nor would he be getting involved any longer in his personal business … he had learned his lesson on that score.

The ride to Longbourn was short and they arrived to find the house in an uproar. Mrs. Bennet's tirade could be heard quite clearly from the open upstairs window and they hurried inside to confirm their sudden suspicions.

" … _don't know what she was thinking, silly, stupid child … could have been ruined … no thought for her poor mother's nerves … " _

Elizabeth seemed very happy to see him and she rushed into his arms upon his arrival, uncaring that her aunt was right behind her. They pulled apart after some loud throat clearing from Richard and sat down to hear what had happened to cause such a disturbance.

It seemed that George had secretly been seeing Lydia without anyone's knowledge and had promised her that they would get married when his regiment returned. He arrived in the early hours of the morning and had attempted to lure her away to carry out their secret elopement.

Elizabeth, who had been unable to sleep, was gazing out at the full moon and spotted his arrival, and was able to intercept Lydia before she could leave with him. The fuss she put up over being detained and 'kept from her true love' woke the rest of the household and scared George away. Lydia was now confined to her room in disgrace, her mother was, well … her mother, and her father refused to discuss the matter beyond forbidding Lydia to leave her room for at least a fortnight. Lydia alternated between wailing loudly and shouting hateful things at her sister for thwarting her escape.

While extremely thankful that George hadn't succeeded in luring Lydia away, it would have been easier to track him with a lady accompanying them and he and Richard shared a glance acknowledging that fact even as both knew better than to voice their thoughts aloud.

They then proceeded to describe to Elizabeth and her aunt what had occurred at the regiment and explained their need to ride to London to see what they could find out, and with luck, apprehend Wickham and Denny and recover what was left of the money. There were in no doubt that a good portion had already been spent.

He knew Elizabeth wasn't happy about his leaving with only ten days until the wedding, but she understood why he felt he had to go. She silently begged her aunt for a moment alone with her intended and thankfully, after a stern look at him in which her meaning was very clear, Mrs. Gardiner pointedly asked Richard if he would show her his handsome horse.

Darcy was truly thankful to that woman when he noticed that despite the recent crises with Lydia, Elizabeth seemed much more relaxed and at ease than she had been before her aunt's arrival. He only wished he didn't have to leave her now, but he had let George go without punishment after Ramsgate hoping never to see him again and that obviously hadn't worked; he couldn't take the chance again.

He could not … would not … start his married life with George Wickham waiting in the wings to try something against his wife, or heaven forbid his children, should the wastrel ever find himself in need of funds again. This time he would do what he should have done a year ago and see justice done.

As soon as the door closed behind her aunt and Richard, they were in each others arms and blindly kissing before either had any idea who had initiated it. It felt like his first cool drink of water after being parched in the desert for so long. Her sweet lips fit against his so perfectly and their tongues dueled for supremacy, both desperate to make the most of this stolen moment alone.

They reluctantly broke the kiss when they heard a servant make a loud noise outside the closed door, but continued to hold each other as their breathing returned to a more manageable rate.

"Oh William, I have missed you … I will miss you, please take care and come back to me in one piece," Lizzy laughed shakily as she searched his face as if to memorize every inch. "Please don't do anything stupid and heroic, he truly is not worth it."

"I will, I promise you. I cannot take the chance that he might come after what I hold most dear … please understand my love, I have to do this." His eyes pleaded with her and she knew she must let him go; he needed her to be strong.

"I will pray for your safe and speedy return, just please, please have a care … for my sake if not your own." She hadn't realized she was crying until he wiped the tears from her wet cheeks, but she spoke more forcefully.

"And know this husband to be, this will be the last time we are separated until they put me in my grave … are we clear on that?"

They departed soon after he had promised her, and he and Richard were almost to London by the time he recovered somewhat from the impact of her words.

The next two days were spent distributing gold around the city in the hopes of garnering any information about Wickham, Denny, or his old partner, Mrs. Younge. They had scoured the docks and obtained manifests for all the ships currently scheduled for arrival or departure, had contacted the Bow Street Runners, and even had his own investigator working the issue.

They visited places he hoped never to see again, walked what felt like miles to visit each ship and each warehouse along the piers, and stopped in more taverns and inns than he even realized existed in London, before falling exhausted into bed each night with nothing but the stench of filth and cheap whiskey to show for their effort.

Finally, in the early morning of the fourth day, one of the street urchins he had paid with a promise of more should he hear or see anything, had arrived at the servant's entrance asking for him. It seemed that a man matching Wickham's description had been seen sneaking onto the _Constellation, _a passenger ship bound for the Americas, scheduled to depart on the morning tide.

He quickly woke Richard and was dressed and ready to go in less than ten minutes. After ensuring that his cook fed the boy well and a last admonishment that he stay until he had eaten his fill and to come back should he ever have a need, he gave the boy two gold pieces before he and Richard were off.

They arrived at the pier along with six men from the local regiment who had been on alert, and boarded the ship just as the last of the stores were being loaded. It didn't take long to find Wickham once the Captain discovered that Darcy actually owned the ship, and drag him from his drunken slumber and arrest him. He did not come quietly, and was soon sporting a very prominent black eye, split lip and large bump on his skull for his reticence.

The trunk with the payroll was recovered, but with no idea of the original amount it contained there was no way of knowing how much was missing, and Lieutenant Denny's whereabouts had yet to be discovered. He didn't believe Denny would have willingly allowed Wickham to abscond with all the money and escape to America on his own, and suspected him to be dead. George refused to say anything beyond shouting expletives about him and his parentage until Richard did them all the supreme favor of knocking George over the head and rendering him unconscious … and most importantly, silent.

Transportation was quickly arranged as the six soldiers would be accompanying them back to Meryton to return the money and oversee the Court Martial proceedings. Word was sent to Bow Street about Lieutenant Denny's disappearance, and at long last, they were finally on their way.

Thankfully, George stayed quiet for the entire trip, although whether it was because he was still unconscious or because the soldiers encouraged his silence, he wasn't sure, nor did he care. He was just thankful to be able to resolve this mess in plenty of time before the wedding taking place in less than a week.

Good God, he would be married in six days!

Only six more days until Elizabeth was truly his.

The Colonel had been pleased to see them, and the regiment to see their pay returned, and Wickham was taken directly to the Colonel's tent to begin the Court Martial immediately. The six regimental soldiers were stationed outside since four of Colonel Forrester's own men were guarding George during the proceedings. Unfortunately, he and Richard were forced to wait outside as well, and after four days of almost constant activity, the sudden waiting seemed incredibly tedious.

He heard another scuffle and looked towards the entrance of the tent just as it was being opened and a heavily shackled George dragged out. He was screaming that it was all a set up until he noticed Darcy and Richard standing there.

"YOU!" he spat at Darcy's feet as he continued to loudly address him. "IT'S ALWAYS YOU! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!"

This pronouncement took Darcy by surprise … he would have liked nothing better than to never have set eyes on or heard about George again in his lifetime.

"ITS ALL YOUR FAULT … THEY ARE GOING TO HANG ME … HANG ME … ALL BECAUSE YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN JEALOUS OF ME," his screams had by now attracted a large crowd who began jeering at the man who had absconded with their pay.

He was struggling to free himself, but with chains around both his wrists and ankles, his struggles simply caused him fall on his face in the dirt. He looked up again and snarled, resembling a crazed animal as he hissed and spat in his and Richard's direction.

"This is about your little whore isn't it? he asked viciously, before a sadistic smile replaced his snarl, "I could have had her if I wanted, she was quite the easy piece, but she wasn't attractive enough to tempt me so you're welcome to my throw backs," his high-pitched, sadistic laughter did nothing to suppress the boiling rage that filled Darcy at George's words.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled him up by his shirt front and punched him so hard in the mouth that his front teeth were knocked out. "Do not _ever_ speak of her again," he spoke softly but his voice was filled with a steel George had never heard from his longtime enemy. "She is worth a hundred of you."

He dropped George to his knees and stepped back, wiping his hands on his waistcoat as if he had just touched something vile and disgusting.

George spat out the blood that was quickly filling his mouth and grinned back at his nemesis; an unnatural gleam in his eye when he next spoke.

"I'll give you that one after what I took from dear little Georgiana … _uummph_ …" he didn't get to finish what he was going to say next as Richard's fist shot out and hit him squarely on the chin.

This time when he fell, he didn't get back up, and Richard kicked George hard in the side, and whispering just loud enough for all to hear, he said, "That one was for Georgiana you ungrateful piece of filth, and you are lucky you are getting a quick and easy death … I would have gladly done it, but it would have taken days and been much messier." He spat on George's prone body and retreated to the Colonel's tent.

Darcy could still feel the rage pounding in his skull and knew he had to calm down but it was hard. He knew George was just trying to get him riled up, but even the thought of his vile hands on his sweet Elizabeth or Georgie made the bile rise in his throat, and that mixed with the stress of the past week caught up with him and he vomited into the nearest bush.

He took a minute to clean himself up at the water pump, making sure to thoroughly clean the cuts on his right hand from George's teeth, and wincing slightly in pain. He hadn't punched someone without boxing gloves in a very long time, but it had felt good to express some of his anger in a completely ungentlemanly way.

When he was done, he watched dispassionately as Wickham's unconscious body was dragged towards the waiting carriage and to his imminent death. He knew he should be happy or at least relieved, especially now that he knew his family would be safe from any more of George's schemes, but all he felt was an inexplicable sense of loss.

His father had believed George was a good man and had begged his son to always look out for him … he wondered what would have happened had his father lived. Would he have continued to delude himself about George's innocence or would he have finally accepted his own son's words over those of his steward's son?

He couldn't help feeling that he had let his father down in some way.

With a heavy heart he joined Richard and the Colonel, anxious for this day to be over. In the morning, his aunt, uncle and Georgiana were scheduled to arrive, and he was looking forward to seeing them, but first he needed to see Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had a way of soothing his very soul like no other, and now he needed that more than anything.

_Tomorrow. He would see his Elizabeth, tomorrow._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This was not the original chapter I had planned, but so many asked for some mush, so I have decided to oblige. This will be a little interlude before we are back into the fire. I will warn you that things get a little heated between them … in a good way.**

**Having said that, I'm not very pleased with how the chapter turned out, but I'm frankly sick of rewriting it, so please keep that in mind if it seem lacking.**

She quietly closed the door behind her as she crept out of the yard and towards her favorite spot to watch the sun come up, hoping that William would be there; she hadn't seen him in four days.

Four days that had felt like an eternity.

There was no doubt that things were somewhat better since her aunt and uncle had arrived, but they were by no means resolved, and were still far from easy, it was just a nice change having an ally in the house.

Her aunt had confessed last evening that they had initially suspected she had been exaggerating about how bad things were when they received her letter and had almost decided not to come early, but knowing her as they did, they agreed to honor her request. They did agree that Fanny Bennet could be trying under the best of circumstances, and two daughters marrying rich gentlemen could hardly be called ordinary, so they decided to go to Longbourn and offer what support they could.

Almost upon arrival however, they quickly realized that if anything, she had glossed over the true extent of how bad things had become, and they were both absolutely mortified at what she had been forced to endure from her family.

Her aunt and uncle were truly appalled at what was happening in the Bennet household and wasted no time trying to correct the situation as much as possible at such a late date. As the wedding details had essentially all been handled already … by the groom. A fact which horrified her aunt to no end and she wasted no time letting Mrs. Bennet know, quite effusively, how utterly embarrassed she was at the way poor Mr. Darcy had been so blatantly taken advantage of.

Mrs. Bennet's attempts to exonerate herself with a myriad of excuses had fallen on deaf ears and she was ashamed to admit that she quite enjoyed having her favorite aunt … now her hero … chastise her mother so effectively and succinctly. In fact, she had never seen her aunt that irate before; nor had her mother based on the pathetically guilty look on her face.

Her aunt also didn't hesitate to let Jane know that while she was very pleased for her and Mr. Bingley, and understood that she must be deliriously happy about her upcoming nuptials, 'she was not impressed with the way she had usurped her sister's place as the bride by forcing her sister's future husband to plan and pay for the wedding because no one could be bothered to drag themselves away from their own selfish needs to assist her … as was their duty at the very least even if it wasn't their desire.'

While she knew her aunt's words were justified, she hated to see the hurt look on Jane's face, nor did she relish the tears that followed, yet it was with no little surprise that she listened as Jane admitted that 'it had just felt good to get all the attention for once, even though she knew it wasn't fair to Lizzy.' She told her aunt that she would try to be more helpful in the future, before she quietly exited the room.

She shared a look of shock with her aunt. Neither had ever heard such a selfish statement uttered from Jane's lips before, nor did either comment on the fact that although Jane admitted to being wrapped up in her own concerns to the detriment of everything else, she had not offered any sort of apology for her behavior to either her aunt or her sister.

She wondered, for what felt like the hundredth time, if she and William shouldn't have just chucked the whole wedding at home idea and gotten married at Pemberley. She just couldn't help hoping that her father would come around and be happy for her as he walked her down the aisle.

As it stood, he had only agreed to still do that because Mrs. Bennet had thrown a fit at the thought of all the talk that would result in the neighborhood if he didn't give his daughter away.

It was nice to know her family had their priorities intact. Gossip trumps familial affection apparently.

Unfortunately, her uncle hadn't had much luck with her father either, even though it was clear to everyone within hearing distance that harsh words were regularly exchanged behind the closed library door, her father still avoided company as much as possible.

Her uncle had caught her hovering outside the library door one morning, and had assured her that in spite of appearances to the contrary, he was making progress with her father … unfortunately, she still did not see it. He continued to either ignore her or brushed aside any overtures she made to repair the breech that had developed between them, and frankly, she was getting fed up with trying.

She took a deep cleansing breath of the clean morning air and smiled in anticipation of seeing William again; thoughts of her family were temporarily pushed to the background as she neared her destination, eyes searching anxiously for a glimpse of his familiar shape.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon by the time she breathlessly arrived at the fallen tree trunk hidden within the familiar copse of trees, but to her dismay she found it empty. She dejectedly took a seat and wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders to ward away the early morning chill as she watched the sun begin its ascent into the sky.

She had finally resigned herself to not seeing William again this morning when she heard the sound of a horse getting nearer and heard her name being called. Her heart leapt at the voice she would recognize anywhere and she eagerly vacated her hiding place to greet her husband to be.

He seemed almost comically relieved to see her, and in no time at all he had the horse loosely tied to a nearby tree and had swooped her up into his arms and carried her back into the trees, anxious for what little privacy they afforded.

Their lips met in a ferocious kiss, neither sure who had initiated it, and neither cared, the only concern was that it not end anytime soon.

She felt her insides melt into a liquid pool of desire that she had come to expect whenever he was near and she eagerly pressed herself against him in an attempt to prolong the pleasure.

"I have missed you so my love," he whispered into her neck once they finally stopped to catch their breath. "This has been the most repugnant four days of my existence, but I just want to hold you for a minute before I tell you of Wickham's fate."

She was very inclined to allow him to hold her for as long as he desired, and firmly pushed all thoughts from her mind but the feel of being in his arms, a feeling that never failed to settle her nerves and bring her a sense of peace and comfort. She reluctantly pushed aside her need for another blistering kiss, realizing that he needed her in a different way right now.

She moved to sit next to him on the log but William had a different idea and gently placed her on his lap so he could continue to hold her while he talked. Sensing that he needed the comfort of having her near, and deciding she quite liked the idea herself, she happily acquiesced.

With her head tucked into his shoulder and his arms wrapped securely around her she found she was quite cozy and warm as she listened to his deep voice relate the events of the past few days, and decided that this would be her favorite spot in the future … snuggled against him just so.

She listened in growing alarm as his disturbing story unfolded, and it was only the strength of his arms that kept her seated and secure against him when she attempted to dislodge herself in alarm at what she was hearing. She knew that Wickham had done some reprehensible things, things that he deserved to be punished for, but she wasn't sure how she felt about hanging him … it just seemed so … barbaric! Not that it mattered now, it was a done deed, but she still found it distasteful, and momentarily wondered who was going to break the news to Lydia.

Only once his sordid tale was finally complete did William release his hold on her and allow her to face him, and what she saw disturbed her greatly. It was obvious that while George's death ultimately put his fears about the future at rest, it didn't sit well on his conscience and he was carrying around an excessive amount of guilt.

For the first few minutes she could do nothing but hug him tightly, the anguished look on his face unsettled her and she simply desired nothing more than to return some of the comfort he was always so ready to provide her. She softly stroked his hair as he buried his face into her shoulder and shuddered, whether from crying or simply a release of tension she couldn't tell, nor did it matter. The only thing that mattered was that he needed her now and she would not disappoint him.

Finally sensing he had relaxed, she began to speak to him, her voice soft so as not to break the quiet mood.

"You are a good man Fitzwilliam Darcy. A _good man_ who has done everything humanely possible to clean up the messes George Wickham created," she put her hands on either side of his face and forced him to meet her eye and not allowing him to look away as he wanted to.

"You are NOT to blame for what that man has done … do you hear me? HE is to blame and didn't deserve either your father's blind faith or your generosity time and time again when he went out of his way continually to deceive both of you."

It broke her heart to see the vulnerability and pain in his eyes, and she silently cursed George for his ability to cause problems even when he was finally out of their lives for good.

"YOU are not to blame William … for any of it! Do you understand me? This is over now and you have done what you could for the many victims of his schemes and deceit, and I truly believe your father would have understood and been proud of the man you have become … I know I will be proud to call you husband … and I am very proud to call you mine!"

She saw his eyes fill with gratitude as her words broke through his haze of regret, and felt his arms tighten around her in thanks. As if suddenly realizing the position they were in, he shifted her legs so that she straddled his lap and he could feel her against him more fully.

She knew there would be trouble if anyone saw them in such a scandalous position, but he needed her comfort right now and she wasn't going to deny him, besides, the wedding was only five days away and she suspected her reputation would survive intact even if they were caught … or at least she hoped so.

Slowly, the feeling of contentment began to shift to something more visceral. She could sense his breathing getting heavier and feel, in exquisite detail, his manhood harden against her and she unconsciously rubbed herself against him in appreciation … completely unprepared for the rush of heat that filled her in response to the low growl he emitted at the heated contact.

Feelings of guilt and recrimination fled and were soon replaced with the realization that they were alone and touching in an as yet heretofore unknown but extremely intimate way. She lifted her skirts aside and gasped when she felt her heated core, covered only by a thin sheath of muslin, make contact with his hardness.

She met his lips in a kiss that stole her breath and made her insides quiver. As his ardent tongue sought to reacquaint itself with hers, his hands worked their way around to her backside and pulled her more firmly against him. The kiss ended as both groaned loudly in appreciation of the feelings the close contact created.

She was awash in sensation both new and more intense than she had ever known. Her body felt like it was on fire and the fire was centered at the very point where they were touching so intimately and radiated outward to encompass her whole body. Without understanding why, she began to rock against him and gasped as the sensation grew and began to build.

He was now kissing her neck and chest and any area he could reach as his breathing escalated to match hers and he increased the pace of their movements, neither giving any thought to their surroundings or the extent of their indiscretion … both simply lost in the exquisite feelings, and loathe for them to end.

She briefly wondered why, if she were being compromised, it felt so very good when it was purported to hurt so badly? But as the his hands gripped her tighter and he gently bit her erect nipple through her thin gown, she stopped thinking at all and allowed herself to just feel.

And she felt amazing!

She felt him growl again and it sent delicious shivers down her spine as she strained against him even harder. She discovered, quite fortuitously, that if she moved a certain way … there … _oh yes!_ If she rubbed that spot, pleasure coursed through her body and she could feel her abdomen tighten as she climbed towards an unknown peak; she increased her pace in search of that elusive height.

He was panting as loudly as she was and seemed to be struggling to maintain his own control, and she could hear him whispering as he increased the friction between them that 'it felt so good' … 'they should stop' … 'should stop' … 'yes, he would stop' … 'in just a' … 'aagghh' … 'oh Elizabeth!'

She suddenly felt herself spiral out of control and her world suddenly stopped as sensation exploded from her core outward into a spectrum of colors and feelings so intense her whole body shook. In the dim recesses of her mind she felt him grab her buttocks tightly and shudder against her, his own breathing erratic and loud.

After what felt like a very long time, she came back down to earth and felt a dampness where their bodies were still connected and wondered what had caused it, but she was gratified to see the look of contentedness on her sweet William's face, glad she had been able to ease his suffering … and be so immensely rewarded in the process.

She knew she should feel guilty about what had occurred between them, but she just couldn't find the energy or the will to regret it. They had come so far and been through so much, what did it matter if they had anticipated their vows when they would be husband and wife in just a few days?

She sighed and leaned against him, anxious to prolong this intimacy before they would have to rejoin the real world again, and felt him shift nervously beneath her.

"Oh Elizabeth, I am so sorry, I don't know what came over me … it just felt so good … and I was … ," he stopped talking when she placed her fingers over his lips.

"That was incredible and it didn't even hurt like they said it would, so if you even try and take the blame or apologize for something that was incredibly beautiful and we obviously both enjoyed … ," he started to speak, but she gave him a quick kiss to silence him again and spoke once more.

" … especially considering we will be married in only a few days." She smiled widely when he chuckled, but blushed when she stood up and noticed the wetness on his breeches and felt it between her own thighs, that the reality of what they had actually done filled her with shyness.

He cleared his throat as he stood and attempted to hide the obvious evidence of what had occurred, then he gently took her hand in his and spoke earnestly.

"I don't regret anything we do together my love, I just didn't want to frighten you … sometimes when I'm with you my passion runs away with me and I have a hard time thinking clearly,"

He pulled her closer for another sweet kiss and rested his forehead against hers before clearing up her evident misunderstanding of what had _actually_ happened between them.

"My love, while what we did was wonderful … we have not actually … I mean, we haven't really … ," he hesitated, hoping she would understand what he was not actually saying, but she simply continued to look at him with a confused expression and he knew she didn't.

" … we have not really … consummated … our relationship yet," he stopped speaking and turned a brilliant shade of red.

She was confused and wasn't sure what she was missing. She had been under the impression that when his manhood touched her … secret place … that they would truly be man and wife, but now he was saying that hadn't actually … completed the act.

So then … how? She suddenly realized that she had misunderstood the whole concept, but that must mean that his manhood must have to actually … OH!

She felt incredibly stupid all of a sudden and buried her head in William's chest, ashamed at her own lack of knowledge. Before long however, she could feel the mirth building inside at her childish assumption, and unable to repress it, she erupted into gales of laughter.

Poor William must be wondering what was wrong with her, but she couldn't seem to stop laughing long enough to appease him, and every time she tried to stop, the confused look on his face would set her off again.

She was finally able to get herself back under control and quietly explained, in very indirect and general terms, what she had found so amusing. Once he actually understood, he chuckled as well, before pulling her back into his arms for another kiss.

"Elizabeth, while I won't regret what just happened as long as you don't, I would like to think I was strong enough to resist truly making you my wife for the first time outside where anyone could find us," he gave her a tender kiss before his gaze heated and he practically growled his next words.

"Besides, when I do finally get you into my bed, you won't be clothed and we won't be leaving it for quite a long time," he pulled her in for another kiss after his ardent proclamation; it was a promise of things to come and her body shivered in anticipation.

He abruptly took a step back from her and held out his hands to stop her when she attempted to approach him again.

"Elizabeth, I am trying very hard to be a gentleman," he looked down at the very noticeable evidence of their earlier escapade and sheepishly continued, " … I mean, after not being much of one earlier, so we need to stop now before I lose all my resolve again."

He looked at her so earnestly that she couldn't help but condescend to agree with him, even though she was struggling between confusion for not feeling shame at her own forwardness and the desire to continue where they had left off.

"I don't suppose that would help matters any," she agreed. Then her eyebrow rose and she added impertinently, "But if that is what I have to look forward to, then I cannot wait for Saturday."

"Nor can I my love, nor can I," he gave her a last quick kiss before walking towards his horse and mounting, "I will be bringing my aunt, uncle and Georgiana by later this afternoon as they are all anxious to meet you."

She suddenly felt her stomach lurch for a completely different reason than desire. It was trepidation. She knew William had said he would marry her regardless, but she still didn't want the whole world against them as they began their life together and prayed his extended family liked her more that Lady Catherine did.

She watched him as he rode away, admiring his strong physique and the way he sat a horse, images of them riding together flashing across her mind. Of course, she would first have to get over her dislike of horses, but she suspected that the incentive might be worth the effort.

She quickly made her way back towards Longbourn and whatever fate had in store for them today … but after what she had just experienced, she knew she would deal with it with a smile on her face.

After all, what could happen this close to the wedding?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay, this chapter will not be warm and fuzzy I'm afraid. There are a few more issues that need resolved before our lovebirds can finally get married. **

**Thanks for hanging in there!**

He slowed as he approached Netherfield, praying that no one would be around to see the mess so evident across the front of his breeches. He had not expelled into his pants like that since he had been a young lad fresh out of short pants, and he was more than a little embarrassed at his lack of control.

But when he felt her heat rubbing against him so intimately, it had taken every ounce of his usually unflappable control to last as long as he had. What was it about Elizabeth that drove him to heights he had never reached before? She would either drive him into an early grave or make him the happiest man in existence.

He smiled at the thought that both amounted to the same thing.

He gave his horse over to the waiting groom and made his way towards the back of the house and entered through the kitchens, pleased to see that no one appeared to be up yet. He grabbed a roll fresh from the oven and poured himself a cup of coffee, carrying both to his room where his valet was busy preparing his usual morning bath.

He was relived when his valet didn't even raise an eyebrow at the state of his attire, but disrobed quickly all the same, eager to wash away an evidence of his misconduct.

He savored the heat of the water as he drank his coffee and tried to keep his mind off of Elizabeth, a nearly impossible task, but one he finally succeeded at when he heard the sounds of his valet reenter the room. He finished washing and dressing quickly and made his way towards the breakfast room for another cup of coffee and a more substantial breakfast.

He heard the sounds of shouting as he neared the library and recognized the shrill voice of Caroline and the unusually irate voice of Charles. He debated briefly about interrupting, but remembered his promise not to involve himself in any more of Charles' personal matters, and continued on, following the smell of freshly cooked ham.

Unfortunately, at that moment the library door swung open and Caroline stormed out, nearly running into him in her haste to escape Charles' censure. He quickly disengaged her hands from where they had entwined themselves in his waistcoat, much to her displeasure, and turned when he heard Charles.

" … and … don't think this discussion is over Caroline … we … we are not through discussing your appalling behavior towards my … my future wife …, " Charles was attempting to sound stern as he followed her out the door, completely unaware of the spectacle he was creating in front of the servants currently engaged in setting out the morning meal, intent only upon having his say.

"Oh Charles," Caroline cried pathetically, looking towards him in an attempt to solicit his agreement, but he was was trying to move past the siblings without appearing overly rude, which was almost an impossibility in the cramped hallway.

"Mr. Darcy, please tell Charles how ridiculous his marrying into that Bennet family is," her exasperation barely concealed beneath a false veneer of graciousness, "Don't misunderstand me Charles dear, I think Jane is a very sweet girl who would make a lovely wife, but honestly how can you, even for a second, consider marrying into that hideous family? We would be the laughing stock of the ton, and no one of any importance would deign to receive us," her voice had risen an octave with each sentence and he found it almost painful to listen to her.

"And what about me … have you given any consideration to my feelings in this matter Charles? How am I supposed to hold my head up in society with relations such as the Bennets?" she accused angrily.

Charles seemed to be gathering his thoughts and trying to control his anger at the same time, but before he could respond, Caroline turned and addressed him.

"Mr. Darcy, surely you agree with me, you said so yourself after the ball," she pleaded, her look one he had not seen before, but he suspected she was attempting to rein in one of her notorious temper tantrums in order to present herself in a more pleasing light.

He personally didn't think there was anything pleasing about her, but suspected she wouldn't appreciate being told so.

"and … and while you're at it, please correct his mistaken belief that you are engaged to that chit Eliza … as if you would ever marry so far below yourself," she trailed off at the dual looks of disgust on both men's faces, and a sudden look of horror filled her features.

He listened in disgust to her next words, amazed at her ability to delude herself so completely.

"You're not … are you? Surely it can't be true?" her voice was growing increasingly shrill, a feat he didn't even think possible, as the expected denial failed to materialize.

He had spent the last six years being as polite as he could be to this harridan for Charles' sake, suffering immense embarrassment and unease because of her unwanted attentions, but he truly would not allow anyone, especially not a woman who was not fit to wipe her boots, disparage his Elizabeth.

"It is very true Miss Bingley," he replied in a voice coated in steel, "I am marrying Miss Elizabeth in five days and I would thank you to never speak ill of my future wife again, or you will find that both Pemberley and Darcy House will be closed to you and I will never again acknowledge you in public … have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Seeing the shattered look on her face might have, at one time, garnered his sympathy, but not today, and his only regret was that he might yet lose his friend as a result of the insult to his sister.

Caroline might be a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. After a few moments of looking like a lost fish, she nodded mutely before quickly excusing herself and going in search of Louisa, who never failed to pander to her ego, lost in her own personal nightmare … Mr. Darcy and Eliza Bennet? Inconceivable.

He decided to try and put things right as soon as possible with Charles and he turned to face his friend, his apology already on his lips.

"I'm sorry Charles, your sister just … ," but he was cut off before he could complete the sentence.

"Please Darce, I know my sister has crossed a line this time, and I don't blame you for what you said," he looked around and admitted sheepishly, "I quite wish I had the nerve to talk to her like that, but she's my older sister and every time I try and put my foot down she somehow turns it around so that I end up making all the concessions and the issue is dropped." he scratched his head absently, "To be honest, I'm not quite sure how she does it."

He knew exactly how she did it, but it wasn't up to him to point out the obvious, he had enough troubles at the moment without adding to the mix. Although he wondered what would happen once his friend was married … well, that was Charles and Jane's problem. At some point he would have to man up if he expected to run his own estate, no tenant would respect an indecisive and hen-picked landlord … nor would a wife appreciate being 'managed' by her husband's older sibling, especially one that disliked her family.

He shook off thoughts of Charles' marrital issues when he still had his own wedding to worry about. His aunt, uncle and Georgiana would be arriving later today and he wanted them to meet Elizabeth. He was fairly confident that Georgiana would like her, but he hadn't yet heard anything from Richard's parents. He knew they expected him to marry well, but he hoped they would just be happy that he was marrying … well … for love.

He decided not to borrow trouble by worrying about his aunt and uncle's reaction, and followed Charles into breakfast. He had already worked up a considerable appetite and he was beginning to suspect he would need the additional sustenance to get through the day.

Ꮺ Ꮺ Ꮺ

He wanted to slam his head against the door in frustration. Today had been a nightmare … it had started out wonderful … but then it had quickly gone down hill. The only good thing that could be said about this day, was that it was almost over.

He moved towards the bed and removed his waistcoat and cravat, his mind still reeling from the day's events. He wished he could have gone and seen Elizabeth, he knew she must be suffering greatly, but it was late and he knew he wouldn't be welcomed at Longbourn. He would just have to hope that she would be out for an early walk again in the morning so they could clear things up.

His aunt and uncle had arrived with Georgiana shortly after breakfast and he had been very pleased to see them, especially his sister, and he had spent a very emotional hour explaining about George and his death. She had taken it surprisingly well all things considered, but had retired to her room to rest until lunch, so he wasn't absolutely sure.

He spent the rest of the afternoon telling his aunt and uncle all about Elizabeth.

They were taken by surprise that she had no dowry and no connections to speak of, evidently they assumed he was marrying a rich country gentleman's daughter, not a penniless one with five sisters and an entail on the estate. An inheritance that belonged Lady Catherine's parson no less. They confessed to receiving a letter from Catherine, but had deferred reading it until they had a chance to talk to him first.

They tried in vain to convince him to reconsider his position in society and family duty, and even offered to introduce him to some very eligible ladies that would be more than suitable to become the future Mistress of Pemberley, but their entreaties fell on deaf ears, and he finally lost his temper and told them, in no uncertain terms, 'that he loved Elizabeth desperately, and if he didn't marry her, he wouldn't be marrying anyone … ever … and if they forced him to choose between her or them, they would lose.'

After a few tense minutes, they apologized and said that they would accept his decision and try to get to know Elizabeth because they weren't prepared to lose someone so very dear to them. Besides, his aunt graciously admitted, anyone who could capture his heart must be worth knowing.

He accepted their apologies, but it was an uneasy truce. He suspected they still believed that Elizabeth was a fortune hunter of the first order, and wouldn't believe otherwise until they had met her. He personally couldn't comprehend them not falling in love with Elizabeth, she just had that affect on people … well, except her own family.

As they were getting ready to depart for Longbourn to call on Elizabeth, a letter arrived unexpectedly informing him that Lydia and Kitty had taken ill and asked that they postpone the visit. He got a sense that something more serious was going on and that Elizabeth wanted to talk to him, but he wasn't sure what to do.

With the visit canceled, everyone retired to the drawing room for tea, but he felt decidedly restless wondering if he should ride out and try to find Elizabeth or if it would be a wasted effort. It was at this point that Caroline made her grand entrance with 'news of the utmost importance;' her humiliation from earlier evidently forgotten in light of recent events.

Evidently, the servants from Longbourn had gossiped with the kitchen servants at Netherfield and it had somehow gotten to Caroline, and she of course, hastened to share the news with the rest of the household.

His aunt and uncle were quite shocked, but Georgiana seemed to take it quite well all things considered. It was Charles' reticence that concerned him. He could see that Caroline's harping was getting to him, but he couldn't believe Charles would let something like that affect his decision to marry Jane.

Nothing would change his mind about Elizabeth and he made that very clear … much to Caroline's dismay, whom he suspected had eagerly shared the news in the hopes that he would cast Elizabeth aside in disgrace. Well, she would just have to accept the fact that he was in love and nothing would change that.

There was however, much discussion about what could be done to rectify the situation before it escalated out of control. His uncle agreed to handle the servants, and make a few inquiries, and his aunt made it very clear to both Caroline and Louisa that if word of this reached London she would know who had spread the story and she would not hesitate to retaliate, as she didn't take kindly to any attempts to slander anyone attached to her family.

Caroline and Louisa nodded meekly in reply, both clearly understood her warning, and while not happy about it, they would never again be welcomed in polite society if Lady Fitzwilliam spread the word that they were persona no grata.

He could tell that while they feared his aunt's reach, their brother was a different story. They spent the remainder of the night attempting to convince him to 'drop his silly infatuation with Jane Bennet and find someone more suitable.' Mr. Darcy would survive any gossip about his wife's family, they however, might not.

He could see that Caroline's words were beginning to affect Charles, but whether positively or negatively he could not say. He had caught Charles giving him inquiring looks throughout the evening, but he refused to make his decision for him. It was time Charles learned to take control of his own life and make his own decisions.

He only really cared about Georgiana's opinion on the issue, and she had already been surprisingly clear on the subject and he had never wanted to hug her more than at that moment. The events at Ramsgate appeared to have matured her more than he would have thought possible, or maybe it was a relief to her to not have to fear seeing George ever again.

It was his greatest hope that once they were married, she would open up to Elizabeth and they would develop a close relationship.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair; Caroline was either sulking every time she looked his way, glaring angrily at her brother, or avoiding Lady Fitzwilliam's eyes; Charles barely spoke and kept his head down to avoid his sister's glare, and his aunt and uncle were treading lightly, unsure where things stood with their nephew.

It was actually the normally shy Georgiana that carried the dinner conversation, or at least made a valiant attempt to, and he once again found himself thankful for being blessed with such a lovely sister. He had no remembrance of what, if anything, he put in his mouth all meal long, so engrossed was he in trying to come up with a solution to the current crises.

After what felt like an eternity, dinner finally concluded and the men anxiously retreated to the library for brandy and cigars, something he only did when his uncle was present, but it seemed to help clear away any remaining tension between the three men.

His uncle, after admitting to giving the issue serious thought, believed he had a solution to the problem and as he outlined his plan, both he and Charles agreed it was the most reasonable solution and would cause the least talk and scandal. His uncle agreed to send an express letter first thing in the morning in the hopes that they would have their answer by the next day at the latest.

The only variable remaining was the Bennet's reaction to their proposed solution … that and Charles' continued subdued behavior to the news, which if he was honest, was beginning to bother him. He once more debated with himself if he should approach his friend, but once again decided to let it be. If Charles wanted to talk he would make himself available, but until then he wouldn't interfere.

They had delayed their return as long as possible to work out the details of the plan, but knew they would have to join the ladies eventually and finally left the dark and soothing comforts of the library and entered the bright music room. The ladies appeared to be quite tense, and he got the distinct impression they were relieved when the men finally joined them, and thankfully, after only a single cup of coffee each, the party began to make their individual excuses to retire.

He finished removing his shirt and boots and was just unbuttoning his breeches when he heard a soft knock on the door. Thinking it was either Charles, anxious to talk, or Georgiana, he slipped his shirt back on, but only fastened the middle button in his hurry to answer the door.

Unfortunately, when he opened the door, it was Caroline who stood there wearing a very thin dressing gown and wearing her hair down. She was holding a single taper that added a malicious cast to her eager face, but he doubted that was the look she was going for.

Suspecting her intent, he quickly barred her way when she attempted to step around him and enter the room. He refused to allow himself to be caught,as he was sure was her plan, in his bedchamber alone with her after hours.

She seemed skittish as she looked down the darkened hallway and anxiously attempted to slide under his arm once more, but he again barred her entry and spoke more harshly than he had intended; he was in absolutely no mood for her games.

"Miss Bingley, it is late and I suggest you go back to your room before you are seen," and not giving her a chance to respond, he slammed and locked the door.

He listened at the door for a few moments before he heard Charles' voice coming quickly down the hallway.

"Caroline? What is it? Louisa said you were in some distress … are you ill?" he could hear the concern in Charles' voice and felt immensely sorry that such an amiable person as his friend was saddled with such a viper for a sister.

"Its … well, I hardly know where to start … it was just awful … ," she started to cry and whether they were real or fake tears he couldn't tell, but he refused to allow her to spin a sordid tale about how he attempted to debauch her or some such nonsense, and swiftly opened the door.

"What is going on out here?" he asked imperiously, glaring at Caroline to let her know her ruse would not go unchallenged.

"I'm not sure myself actually, I was just trying to find out," Charles took Caroline's hands in his and spoke gently, using his childhood name for her, "Car, what happened?"

She glanced from his implacable face to Charles' concerned one and seemed to be mentally calculating her chances of success. However, it wasn't until the Earl's deep voice inquired about what was going on that she reached the conclusion that her plan would fail, and after mumbling something about seeing a mouse, she retreated back to her room.

Charles and his uncle both just shook their heads in confusion, but he breathed a sigh of relief that the charade had not played out as Caroline had hoped. He knew his friend would probably believe his side of the story, but he honestly didn't need the arguments the incident would spur.

And he would rather become a social hermit than marry Caroline Bingley.

After wishing them both another 'goodnight,' he soundly closed and locked the door once more … hopefully for the last time that night … and wearily sat on the bed.

He swore, if anything … anything … else happened between now and the wedding … he was taking Elizabeth and Georgiana and heading to Pemberley to be married. His nerves simply couldn't take this much excitement.

Oh Bloody Hell, now he was even starting to sound like Mrs. Bennet!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Okay, I am really sorry about leaving you in suspense, it truly was not my intention, I just wanted to explain what happened from Lizzy's POV.**

**After posting three chapters so close together, I'm afraid the next one will take an extra day or two to finish. Thank you to everyone who has left such lovely comments, they are truly appreciated! **

The rain beat steadily against the window punctuated every so often by a bright flash of lightening and the reverberating clash of thunder, but she was oblivious to the tempest raging outside as she tried to make sense out of the chaos that her neat and ordered world had become.

Of three things she had always been absolutely sure: that Jane was her dearest confidant, supporter and friend and would be for always; that regardless of whether it was right or wrong, she was her father's favorite daughter; and that she would always consider Longbourn her true home.

Now she was forced to acknowledge that all three had been proven false in the last month, and she could honestly say that the thought of never returning to Longbourn held a very serious appeal.

She brushed out her hair and began to absently braid it in preparation for bed. Jane had taken to sleeping with Lydia of late, and with Mary now sharing with Kitty to allow the Gardiners her room, she had a bedroom all to herself for the first time in her life. She tied off the end of her hair with a piece of cloth and quickly blew out the candle before getting into bed, all the while knowing that sleep would not come anytime soon.

Tomorrow, weather permitting, she would meet William's sister, aunt and uncle for the first time and she was quite nervous. Not only because she truly wanted them to like her, but also because she dreaded the nightmare their visit might turn into if her Aunt Gardiner couldn't keep a reign on her mother's wayward tongue.

The visit had already been postponed for three days; first because of the 'crisis,' then due to rain, but with tomorrow being Thursday already, and the wedding scheduled for Saturday, and the 'secret' already out, it could no longer be postponed or put off. William's family must be welcomed.

Maybe her aunt would agree to drug both her mother and Lydia so the visit would have the greatest chance of success.

Had she now lowered herself to unnecessary laudanum use simply for her own comfort?

Yes … yes, she had reached that level of desperation … Lord help her!

Almost from the moment she returned from her walk that morning three days ago, in a very fine mood as a result of their sensual interlude, she realized something was wrong; wails and shouting could be heard from upstairs followed by the loud slamming of the library door and her father shouting about 'finding some peace in this madhouse.'

She quickly removed her pelise and started for the stairs just as her uncle Gardiner was coming down. As soon as he saw her he began to shake his head morosely in response to her queries and simply patted her on the arm before joining her father.

Feeling somewhat frightened at this point, she quickly made her way to where her mother's loud cries were originating from along with her aunt's attempts to calm her, to no avail. Her mother was obviously in distress about something … well, something more extreme than her usual complaints.

As soon as she entered the room that belonged to Lydia, she knew with a sickening certainty that things had indeed gotten worse … much worse.

Lydia was hunched over the chamber pot being desperately sick; her skin an unhealthy hue of green, with tears coursing down her cheeks as she wailed about her 'beloved George.' Jane was wiping her brow and attempting to soothe her while the chambermaid quickly switched bowls and hastened out of the room to dump the smelly mess. It was then she noticed Kitty and Mary huddled together uncertainly in the corner looking scared and very worried.

Was Lydia … ? No, she couldn't be.

Lydia's howls soon matched the volume of her mothers' as she cried out that 'her George would come for her and they would marry as soon as he returned, and he would be pleased that she was carrying his child.' As if that statement wasn't enough, she then loudly proclaimed that 'nothing would separate her from true love.'

Oh dear God, she _was_ pregnant!

It took all of Lizzy's willpower not to blurt out that her 'one true love, who by the way had impregnated another young girl in town as well, was currently buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in London.'

Even she wasn't that cruel.

She carefully made her way over to Lydia and tried to assist Jane in comforting her so she could share the news in a more delicate manner, but her overemotional and overly dramatic sister refused to be outdone by her mother, whose howls of recrimination and ruination could probably be heard in Meryton.

The cacophony of noise reverberating around the room seemed to shake the very foundation of the house … Good Lord how these two could go on! No wonder her father and uncle were hiding out in the library. She would have liked to join them, but she knew someone would have to put a stop to this drama soon or they would continue trying to outdo each other.

Unable to tolerate the weeping and wailing any longer, she banged her hand sharply on the top of the dresser. The resounding slap was enough to momentarily shock the two hysterical ladies into silence, and Lizzy slowly approached Lydia and gently informed her youngest sister that George Wickham had been hanged for his crimes against the crown and was unable to come to her, or anyone's rescue any longer.

After the initial impact of her words had sunk in, the wailing then began again in earnest and while Mrs. Bennet was convinced they would be shunned by all of society and feared they would never be able to step foot out of the house again, Lydia refused to believe her and said 'she was just jealous because she had always wanted George while all the while he had loved only her.'

She tried to be gentle and understanding like Jane, but she could feel her anger rising. Unable to handle the hypocrisy any longer, she did something she had wanted to do for weeks … she lost her temper.

She was far from proud of her outburst, but at the time she was simply too angry to restrain herself.

She turned over and plumped her pillow in an attempt to get more comfortable as her mind replayed the ugly scene that had played out in Lydia's bedroom.

"_Jealous? Jealous of George Wickham? You must be mad. I avoided George because I finally saw him for the lying, cheating scoundrel that he truly was!" _

_Lizzy held up her hand at her sister's attempt to interrupt and come to her lover's defense, and continued her speech; everyone in the room held captive by not only her words but her uncharacteristically harsh tone._

"_George Wickham was a gambler, a thief, and a despoiler of young girls, and if you don't believe me ask Mr. Smelting, since his sixteen year old daughter is now with child and believed your 'true love' when he claimed to love and his empty promises to marry her as well," she paused to let her words sink in in the hopes her stubborn sister finally realized what type of man she was unjustly defending._

"_He absconded with the payroll for the entire regiment, deserted his post, owed an enormous amount in debts, both in town and with his fellow officers, and most likely killed his accomplice while attempting to escape to the Americas. Does that sound like someone that was waiting to propose marriage to a young and penniless girl just because she was carrying his child?"_

_Lizzy hated that she was most likely hurting her sister, but she refused to listen to another word about how wonderful George was. Not after all he had put William and Georgiana through._

_The shocked gasps from the other occupants of the room told her she had spoken indecorously, but the time for niceties was over as far as she was concerned. _

_Lydia finally stopped crying and was now glaring at her sister in absolute fury, "YOU LYING COW,' she screamed at Lizzy, who took a step back in surprise._

"_YOU ARE JUST SAYING ALL THAT STUFF BECAUSE YOU ARE JEALOUS."_

_Lydia's face was now a brilliant shade of red as she continued her tirade. "YOU AND DARCY HAVE ALWAYS HAD IT IN FOR HIM, AND I WOULDN'T BE SURPRISED IF THAT MONSTER YOU ARE MARRYING PLANNED THE WHOLE THING AS A SET UP." her breathing was heavy and uneven as everyone in the room stared at Lydia in horrified amazement. _

_When Lydia next spoke, her anger seemed to have suddenly left her and her voice was clogged with unshed tears, "I know my George loved me and was a good man, and if he hadn't been wrongfully accused and killed … ," she paused as the words sunk in._

" … _he WOULD have come back for me and our baby," she turned dark eyes towards Lizzy as she spoke, "I hate you! I hate you and that man you are to marry and I hope you both rot for what you have done to my George!"_

_Lizzy found herself unable to move at the bitter animosity in Lydia's words, and as she looked around the now silent room, she saw the same stunned looks on every face. It was Jane who spoke first, as always, the peacemaker._

"_Lydia sweet, you don't really mean that. Neither Mr. Darcy nor Lizzy is to blame for Lieutenant Wickham's death, and you shouldn't say such things," she attempted to wipe away the tears that continued to course down Lydia's cheeks, but Lydia roughly pushed her away and stood, her lips tightly compressed as she addressed the room._

"_I don't care what you say Jane, I will feel what I want to feel, and momma," she turned towards the woman who had spoiled and pampered her all her life, "I am keeping this baby! I will not give away George's child because it is all I have left of him," she began to cry in earnest and she slowly sunk back down to her knees as she continued to weep heavily._

"_I don't c … c … care about my r … r … reputation, but I'm n … n … not giving up my child!"_

_Mrs. Bennet was uncharacteristically silent and seemed unable to respond to the heartfelt declaration, but Mary, usually so quiet and pious, had no such compulsion and angrily upbraided her youngest sister. _

"_So that's it? After all my unheeded warnings about going too far with your beloved George, all those times I caught you behaving inappropriately and didn't tell anyone because you begged me not to, and YOU suddenly decide what's best?" Mary paused to catch her breath, unused to such outbursts._

"_You are holding all of our reputations at risk here, as well as the future happiness of all of your sisters, and you selfishly say that YOU HAVE DECIDED WHAT YOU WILL DO AND WONT DO?"_

_Lizzy was just as shocked as everyone else at Mary's violent accusations, but it simply proved her point that everyone had a limit … and it seemed as if Mary's had just been reached. She found herself admiring her younger sister 's courage, even if her departing comment was a bit cruel, she could hardly point fingers as she secretly felt the same way._

"_YOU UNGRATEFUL, SELFISH LITTLE GIRL. I AM ASHAMED TO CALL YOU MY SISTER!" Mary quickly departed the room, slamming the door on her way out, and no one spoke for quite a few minutes after their abrupt departure._

_Despite the seriousness of the situation, Lizzy felt laughter bubbling in her chest and had to struggle to contain it, as she sincerely doubted anyone else found this entire unreal scene amusing. _

_It didn't end with Mary's outburst however, because she was soon followed by Lydia's partner in crime, Kitty, who made her parting shot less antagonistic, but no less heartfelt._

"_I have always looked up to you," she said quietly to Lydia, her eyes shining with unshed tears, "but I see what a fool you have been, and I as well for always following your lead, and now we will all pay the price for your bit of fun," and she too left the room, although she did it silently._

_She was amazed that the sister she had always found to be as silly as Lydia had said something mature and profound. She sensed that today had been quite a shock to Kitty more than anyone, and had forced her to finally grow up a bit. As much as she hated the circumstances, she felt that maybe at least something positive would come of this mess._

_She could tell that Lydia had not expected her sisters to condemn her, and watched in some sympathy as she looked beseechingly towards where her mother sat. The same mother whom always defended and commiserated with her youngest and most favored daughter … the daughter whose 'liveliness and high spirits' had been the very things that had gotten her into this predicament._

_Her aunt wore a stern frown on her face and Lydia knew she would find no sympathy there, she rarely did, but her mother simply stared at the closed door as if trying to figure out how everything had gone so very wrong in her world._

"_Mama?" Lydia asked softly, questioningly._

_Mrs. Bennet sighed heavily and stood to leave the room, her expression harder than Lydia had ever seen directed at her, and she unconsciously snuggled closer into Jane._

"_I will speak to your father about this, but so help me child," her vehemence surprised everyone, "if you have ruined your sister's weddings because of this; ruined our only chance at not being thrown out on the streets after your father dies, I will never forgive you."_

_Lydia's cries were heartfelt after her mother exited the room, as for the first time … ever … her mother had spoken harshly to her, and she wondered how long it would be before she was forgiven and could reclaim the title as her mother's favorite daughter once more._

_Lizzy found herself suddenly meeting Jane's horrified gaze as they both pondered what this meant for them, especially with her wedding only days away. She felt her heart lurch at the thought that this would cause William to break off the engagement, and she felt her hand suddenly clutched tightly by her aunt as she was led from the room. Looking back, she saw Jane staring out the window as she absently stroked Lydia's back._

_She would have to tell William. Would he still want her after word of Lydia's condition became known?_

She shuddered as she recalled the stressful day she had endured wondering what his reaction would be. But she should have known her sweet William wouldn't cast her aside so easily.

He would have been well within his rights to end their engagement and no one would have blamed him … it would have devastated her, but even she would have understood, but he had come through once again for her and her family.

She gave a silent prayer of thanks for whomever brought William into her life.

Her revere was interrupted by a particularly loud boom of thunder and she snuggled deeper into her covers. It had been raining all day so she hadn't been able to see William, but she hoped and prayed it would clear up by morning. There were final plans to be made, and very little time left to make them.

Once the thunder died down, her thoughts drifted back over the past few days.

After leaving Lydia's room, it had taken her aunt the better part of an hour to calm her down enough to think coherently and then she had immediately sent word to William that they were unable to receive visitors, but tried to word the note in a way that would make him read between the lines and come find her by himself.

In the meantime, her aunt and uncle had tried to repair as much of the damage as they could, and had called all the servants together and warned, bribed and coerced them into not repeating any of what had occurred at Longbourn that day. She wasn't sure how they managed, but their secret was safe … or so they thought … until they could determine the best course of action.

It was decided that Lydia would have to go away somewhere to hopefully save the family's reputation somewhat. People would likely still speculate, but without concrete evidence, nothing would be known for sure. The problem was finding a distant relation or acquaintance that would be willing to take her in until the child was born.

The only relative able to do it was Mr. Collins … but that was an impossibility all things considered.

The suggestion of sending her away to a convent was adamantly rejected by Lydia, but she quieted as soon as she realized neither her mother or father had spoken out to agree with her.

And for the first time since news of her condition became known, Lydia knew real fear. The thought of being stuck in a convent for the rest of her life caused Lydia to shudder visibly.

She almost … almost … felt sorry for her.

Nothing could be decided until more information was obtained and inquiries sent out, and in the meantime, no one was to leave the house, nor were visitors encouraged. This was quickly solved by getting word to her Aunt Phillips that Lydia and Kitty had come down with the flu and may be contagious. They knew telling her would ensure that word would be spread around town in a matter of hours.

As the day progressed, she grew more and more worried about William's reaction, for while they had acted precipitously to contain the gossip, the reality was that word had likely already gotten out, and they would need to prepare for the worst. The worst, for her being the loss of William.

And the loss of Mr. Bingley for Jane.

She had worked herself into quite a state by the time evening came, and with still no word from William, she slept very little that night and was up well before dawn and on her way to to their favorite meeting place, praying all the while that he would come, and half hoping he wouldn't.

She had almost reached her destination when she heard the sound of horse's hooves and was half filled with elation and half despair as she spied William's unmistakable form astride his favorite steed.

He truly was a gorgeous male specimen.

He was off the horse and had pulled her into his arms all in the same moment, and she allowed herself to savor the feel of him as she cried out her agony and fear. He gently stroked her hair and whispered soft words of love until she was finally able to get herself back under control enough to continue on to a more secluded location where they could talk without fear of discovery.

Once there, she hesitantly confessed the real reason for the subterfuge about the illness, afraid that at any moment William would run screaming in the other direction, finally having had enough of both her and her family.

To her complete surprise, William was already aware of what had occurred. Evidently the stable boy who had delivered the note had shared the information with the kitchen maid at Netherfield he was courting, and she had shared it with the cook who had spread it around to the other servants … and somehow Caroline had found out and she had wasted no time in sharing the devastating news that the engagements would have to be called off since the Bennets were ruined.

William explained how they had acted quickly to contain the news within Netherfield, and had threatened and eventually bribed all the servants for their continued silence. He had then called together the family and explained what had occurred and by whom, exaggerating to some degree about George's influence over the 'innocent Lydia.'

His aunt and uncle had been understandably concerned, but Georgiana had surprised everyone by saying that 'he would be an idiot if he gave up the woman he loved over something George Wickham had done.' William, surprised but pleased at his sister's unexpected vocal support, told his aunt and uncle that he would never forsake Elizabeth regardless of her family's circumstances.

She decided that she would love Georgiana after William told her that, and it took quite a while before he could continue his tale because upon hearing he still planned to marry her she was so overcome with emotion he was forced to appease the wildly emotional woman in his arms.

Although as she kissed him passionately, he didn't seem to mind the delay.

After some time they separated and continued their earlier discussion, and he outlined their proposed plan for a solution to the Lydia dilemma that might save her reputation from total ruin.

He explained that his uncle had a tenant that had lost his wife and was looking for a new one to move with him to Scotland where his family owned a decent sized sheep farm. He needed a small amount of capital to make some much needed repairs to the property and a strong wife to help him run the place until he could afford to hire more help.

They had agreed to a sum of five thousand pounds as a dowry and to overlook the fact that Lydia had already been compromised and was carrying another man's child. It turned out that the farmer's wife had been unable to conceive, so he was pleased at the chance to have a son or daughter. All that remained was getting the approval of Mr. Bennet and they could be wed as early as a fortnight.

She had agreed to talk to her uncle and father as soon as she returned and would get word to him as soon as a decision could be made.

They had then spent a quiet hour just enjoying the sunrise wrapped up together for warmth and mutual comfort. It was a much needed respite from their hectic and chaotic lives and they each savored the moment of serenity their embrace afforded, and were both extremely reluctant to part even as they knew they must. The kiss they shared before departing was one of sweet promise and tender affirmation that touched each deeply as it nourished their flagging spirits.

The sentiment, while not spoken, was clear: no matter what happens, we will always have each other.

She had wasted no time upon her return informing her uncle and father about William's offer, and while her uncle agreed that it was the very best solution all things considered, her father merely grunted his approval and called in Mrs. Bennet and Lydia to share the news.

She almost laughed as she recalled how her mother had rejoiced when she heard the news of William's offer. Not only would her youngest daughter finally be married, but their reputations would be saved and the farm would have plenty of room for her should Mr. Bennet die anytime soon.

She even made a grudging comment about thanking William for his generosity before rushing off to make plans to supplement Lydia's wardrobe with warmer clothes.

Lydia, had been uncharacteristically subdued when she heard the proposal, but it wasn't until her uncle made it clear that as there weren't any relatives able to take her; it would either be the convent or marriage. Finally understanding that she didn't have any options left to her, she broke into tears after agreeing to marry and quickly departed the library.

Word was sent to William that his proposal had been accepted by all concerned and they agreed to host Lydia's future husband the following week at Longbourn.

Unfortunately, it had been too late for callers by then, and it had rained the entire day today, so no one could call, but a note was received mid-afternoon that confirmed the party from Netherfield would call tomorrow at ten.

Lizzy plumped her pillow yet again, anxious for sleep to come so she wouldn't have dark circles under her eyes when she met William's family for the first time.

The only issue that William had not answered her queries about, nor had Jane received any word from … was Charles. She knew his silence had hurt her sister even though she pretended it didn't, and William had simply said that it was between Charles and Jane and he was not getting involved, but admitted that Caroline and Louisa were both pushing Charles pretty hard to end the engagement.

She didn't share that news with Jane but hoped that Charles developed a spine soon so her sister wouldn't be hurt. She had tried to casually bring up the issue with Jane before bed, but her sister had simply hugged her harder than usual and bade her sleep well; refusing to discuss it.

She stared out the darkened window, watching the patterns the rain made against the glass and prayed that the last of their problems were over, and that things would progress smoothly for the next two days leading up to the wedding.

She had sensed a thawing in her father … or at least he had actually met her eyes and nodded his head after she had revealed William's offer for Lydia.

That could be taken as a positive sign, couldn't it?

She would try talking to him again tomorrow, maybe his anger … or resentment … or whatever it was that was bothering him … was finally fading.

And Jane hadn't hugged her for the first time in weeks, so maybe things were looking up there as well.

Her mother … well … her mother was, and always would be her mother. They may never see eye to eye, or get along, or even really like one another … but it was what it was. Besides, she had the Gardiners who were more like real parents than her own had ever been … and she had William.

And honestly … how she could ask for anything more than that?


	10. Chapter 10

He stared out the darkened window as he waited for Charles, his reflection lightly outlined by the light from the fire. He had finally been approached by his friend as they were leaving the library after dinner, quietly asking if he could come to his bedchamber after everyone else retired, to talk.

He knew what Charles wanted to discuss, and while he had kept his promise and not interfered, he was relieved his friend was finally coming to him. He doubted the poor man had even a moment to consider his options with Caroline and Louisa harping on him every single second of the day. Those two could make Mrs. Bennet seem soft spoken … and that was saying something.

Charles had finally taken to his room claiming a headache, which he could well understand as they were giving him one as well, and spent the rest of the afternoon indisposed. He had even declined the invitation to call at Longbourn with them … which had not gone over well with Mrs. Bennet, or, he suspected, Jane.

Although she didn't show any emotion to confirm his suppositions, she still seemed quieter than usual.

Otherwise the visit had gone surprisingly well, all things considered. Mrs. Bennet was rather quiet … at first. But at every break in the conversation she asked after Mr. Bingley, and when told, yet again, that he was temporarily indisposed, made three or four rather pointed inquiries regarding his health.

Thankfully, Mrs. Gardiner had subtly cut her off and changed the topic when even the implacable Jane was showing signs of agitation at her mother's dogged persistence.

His aunt and uncle had been gracious, if hesitant, towards Elizabeth and after a few general questions were content to chat with the Gardiners while unobtrusively observing her interact with Georgiana. If Elizabeth were aware of the intense scrutiny, her demeanor didn't reflect it. She maintained her poise throughout while still allowing her natural good humor to shine through.

Was it any wonder he was so in love with her?

To his great pleasure, she and Georgiana spent almost the entire visit chatting together amicably. Elizabeth's natural warmth and laughter, both at her own and others follies, served to draw out his shy sister and the two had quite a lively discussion that even provoked a giggle or two out of his usually shy and taciturn sister.

The sound surprised his aunt and uncle so much that they paused mid sentence during their discussion with Mrs. Gardiner about theaters in London to observe the engaging spectacle.

Georgiana never giggled, she never laughed, and had rarely smiled since her incident with George Wickham. That scoundrel had so destroyed her self confidence and sense of self worth, that Darcy sometimes felt that George had gotten off too easy. That his Elizabeth could draw such a wondrous sound from his sweet sister made his throat tighten with emotion, and he saw that his aunt's eyes were suspiciously shiny as well.

Georgina and Elizabeth were oblivious to the effect their camaraderie was having on the rest of the room, but it was readily apparent to everyone that his future wife and his sister had become fast friends. A notion that endeared Elizabeth to his aunt and uncle greater than anything else ever could.

Georgiana had never gotten on well with any of the women that stalked … um … made it their desire to get better acquainted with him, and his family knew it. They jokingly admitted that the first lady Georgiana actually got on well with he should marry. He had not appreciated the joke at the time, but now he was certainly pleased that it had proven to be an apt observation.

He had every intention of marrying the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet in two days and spend the rest of his days making her feel loved … and making love to her … definitely making love to her!

The fact that his family liked her was just an added bonus.

He had allowed his mind to wander on to more pleasant things until he noticed the sudden silence and realized that Mr. Gardiner had addressed him and was awaiting a response. He blushed and offered his excuses for allowing his attention to wander, but he hadn't missed the knowing smirk Elizabeth's uncle made no effort to conceal.

Yes, the afternoon could be counted as a success as far as his aunt, uncle and sister were concerned. They gave their approval of Elizabeth and spoke very highly of the Gardiners. Georgiana couldn't say enough about how wonderful her future sister was, unfortunately, the same could not be said of their impression of Mrs. Bennet.

Mrs. Bennet, after finally dropping the matter with Bingley, had remained quiet for a time, as if in awe of her company, but had then ruined any impression she may have given of being a well bred lady by asking the Earl's wife, quite pointedly, 'if she had heard the wonderful news that her youngest daughter was to be married to a man of property and with excellent prospects.'

The silence following her question was heavy with tension and incredulity. Elizabeth had turned a startling shade of red and seemed to be struggling to find something to say that would make the situation any less embarrassing, but all she could manage was a strangled apology for 'her mother's forgetfulness to whom they owed their sister's recent good fortune.'

Thankfully, Mrs. Gardiner, sensing that withdrawal was the best solution, pleaded a sudden headache and begged Mrs. Bennet's assistance in helping her to her room. The obtuse woman attempted to pawn her off on Jane, but Mrs. Gardiner remained quite firm that she needed Mrs. Bennet's 'specific' assistance, until she finally stood in a huff and exited the room with her 'ailing' sister-in-law.

A sigh of relief seemed to fill the room at Mrs. Bennet's departure, and slowly conversation began again, although the Netherfield party made their excuses shortly thereafter, perhaps in fear that Mrs. Bennet might decide to return, or simply because they had already been there close to an hour. Either way, he was forced to say good bye to Elizabeth.

Something he was getting extremely tired of doing.

Saturday could not come soon enough for him.

His attention was forced back to the present when he heard a soft knock on the door and he cautiously opened it just enough to peer out in case Caroline had decided to have another go at him. He was relieved to see that it was only Charles.

He smiled as he let Charles in and invited him to have a seat near the fire. He poured them both a glass of brandy before taking the seat across from his friend who remained quiet and pensive. It was a few moments before he began to speak.

"Darce, I need some advice," he began tentatively, "I know you said you were not going to get involved in my personal affairs, but I just don't know what to do."

He ran his hand through his hair in agitation and stood up to pace, unable to remain seated while he was so obviously distressed.

"The thing is … , " he hesitated, then began again, " … the thing is that I'm confused. I love Jane, I truly do, and I want to marry her with my whole heart … but my sisters … and then this things with Miss Lydia … its just … I mean … and then they … ," he stopped when he realized he wasn't making any sense and sat down and took a long draw from his glass before taking a deep breath and trying again.

"I know my sisters don't want me to marry Jane; they proved that by their deceitful actions after the ball, but I was determined to marry her regardless of their opinions once you told me she still loved me."

Charles was quiet for a few minutes and he was hesitant to interrupt what was obviously a very heartfelt issue, so he simply waited to give his friend time and space to organize his thoughts.

"The deciding factor for me leaving Netherfield in the first place was when you told me she didn't love me … and I know now that I was wrong to listen to you and my sisters instead of trusting my own heart … but I have always trusted your judgment over my own and it had always served me well before, so I didn't question you."

He finished his drink and set the glass back down, deferring when a refill was offered.

"I have always been the baby of the family, as you know," he seemed lost in a past memory, "my sisters spoiled me … I readily admit that … but everything changed when my father died and I suddenly became the provider and protector of them," Charles looked over at him almost angrily, and he wondered what he had done to earn his friend's ire.

"Not everyone can be as perfect as you Darce, you took over everything flawlessly after your father died and didn't even seem to blink an eye … and not only have you raised a very young sister on your own, but you have almost doubled your family's fortune and developed a sterling reputation in the first circles at the same time … you make it almost impossible for the rest of us to live up to your lofty standards."

Darcy was stunned at his friend's words. Charles had never given one inkling that he felt inferior in any way save for the occasional joke, but he had never taken those seriously. To finally find out that the friend you had always thought you could relax and be yourself around felt he couldn't live up to your expectations … when you hadn't had any for him… was a blow.

But once started, Charles didn't seem to want to stop.

"So here I am, once again faced with the dilemma of whether or not I stay or go. My heart tells me to stay and make things work and to hell with everyone who believes I am marrying beneath myself … ,"

Had Charles just swore?

" … but then after this whole thing with Miss Lydia, Caroline started in again and I feel like I need to think about her and how my marriage will affect her chances at a good match … and honestly, with her twenty thousand pounds, the only reason she isn't married yet is because she has been holding out for the grand prize … you! Even though I have tried to tell her time and again that you are simply not interested in her in that way … but will Caroline listen to reason … NO! She never has and I doubt she ever will … so that begs the question, if she never listens to me, why am I bothering to listen to her?"

Charles was panting as if he had just run a race and he was almost certain he had never heard such a long speech from Charles in all the time he had known him. This must really be bothering him.

"The other thing is, what happens if we do marry? What happens to my sister then? Will she have to live with us? And how would that work if my wife and sister don't get along? And what happens the next time Caroline disagrees with something Jane or I decide to do? Do you see what I mean Darce? How you have navigated these waters so brilliantly is a mystery to me, and frankly its bloody hard being in your shadow."

His shadow? Is that truly how Charles felt?

"Not that I don't appreciate all you have done for me, because I do. You have helped me navigate the shark infested waters of the ton and without your help I'm sure I would have drowned or been eaten by now, but I think its time I stood on my own and see where things stand."

Drown or be eaten? Where did he come up with this stuff? He knew the Ton could be unforgiving, but had he always felt this way, and if so, why had he never said anything?

Caroline.

Charles had entered society because Caroline had insisted. Charles was as happy at country assemblies as he was anywhere. The difference was, that in the country he was a big fish in a small lake. In London, he was a very, very small fish in a very, very big lake.

Yes, he could see the correlation now.

"I think I need to go away for a while and get my life together before I can even consider marriage. If Jane still wants me after all is said and done, then I'll be thrilled, but as it stands right now, I can't offer her half a man and expect to be able to take care of her and any children we may have in the future. Besides, not that I don't appreciate all you have done for me, but I have to prove I can do this on my own for once."

Charles seemed to lose steam all of a sudden and flopped back against the chair as if waiting to be told he had made the right decision but fearing he would hear otherwise.

Not wanting to disillusion his friend amidst his newly found sense of quasi-independence, he felt he needed to inject some reality into the situation.

"What if she decides not to wait for you? What if someone makes her an offer and she decides to accept?" he asked Charles quietly.

There was a bigger issue that had to be dealt with, but he decided to start out with the easy questions first to try and determine Charles' true feelings before working up to the unavoidable ones.

"Well then, I will just have to deal with that when the time comes. If we can't weather this, than chances are we wouldn't have been able to weather marriage either."

"So what are you going to tell her? When are you going to tell her? What exactly are you planning to do?" he asked patiently, convinced his friend had not properly thought this through and was simply acting on his frustrations.

"I will talk to her tomorrow, and then make plans to close up Netherfield and leave after your wedding. I need to talk to my solicitor and see about cutting Caroline loose. As long as I am responsible for her, she will think she can run my life," he continued on without taking a breath.

"I will get her dowry released to her, and offer her a small quarterly allowance with the stipulation that should she cause any trouble or spread any gossip, about or with any of the Bennets, she will lose that as well." Charles paused and looked at him for his reaction, but seeing only his calm demeanor, he continued.

"She should have more than enough to get herself a small house in town and live quite comfortably until she finds a husband … or barring that … she will have more than enough to support herself if she is prudent, she will just need to hire a companion to live with her."

They both left the obvious unsaid … that Caroline was way past her prime and very bitter, and the only husband she was likely to find at this point was someone in desperate need of her twenty thousand pounds. But hiring a companion reeked of spinsterhood, and he knew she would fight Charles quite vehemently on this.

What remained to be seen was how firm Charles would be once Caroline's inner demoness revealed herself and unsheathed her claws.

He shuddered at the thought even as a small voice in the back of his mind was reminding him that he had warned Charles on numerous occasions that he needed to rein in Caroline before she embarrassed him or got too far out of his control, but Charles had not heeded his warnings and now he would pay the price.

That didn't stop him from feeling sorry for his friend, and he listened as Charles continued speaking.

"After that, I think I will look for a small country estate, somewhere far away from you," Charles gave Darcy a pointed look, "and try and make a go at running it. Something much smaller than Netherfield … ," _and far away from the Bennets_, remained hanging in the air, unspoken. After a brief hesitation, Charles resumed speaking, his voice growing more animated.

"It was what my father always wanted, and I feel I owe it to him, and myself, to give it an honest go, not just playing at being a country gentleman while my overseer runs everything. If, after six months or a year, things are going well, then I can revisit the marriage issue."

He could see that Charles had indeed given the idea at least a cursory amount of thought, but it was still just an idea and he hated to be the bearer of bad news, especially as the idea had some merit, but he had to bring his erstwhile friend back to face the reality of the situation.

"I think that's a fine idea Charles, especially the part about how you plan on dealing with Caroline, but if you break the engagement now, both yours, your sisters, and Jane's reputation will be ruined."

Charles looked as if he had been struck. Evidently that thought had never occurred to him, and in his frustration he began to pace again until he finally stopped and stared absently into the fire before answering.

"If she chooses to remain engaged after I have explained everything to her than I will honor my word. I will simply postpone the wedding, and we will be separated while I get my life together. If she chooses to end things so she is not tied down until I come back for her, than I will respect that and spread the word that I broke the engagement for health reasons or something so she doesn't suffer."

Darcy wanted to mention that a year spent in Mrs. Bennet's company after the wedding had been indefinitely postponed would be torture enough for anyone, and he doubted that even the calm and complacent Jane could survive that, but wisely held his tongue.

"If this is really what you want to do, you know you have my full support. If there is any way I can help please let me know, but I suspect your biggest hurdle will be Caroline."

"Yes, I will talk to her tomorrow and send her and Louisa back to London. I don't want them ruining your wedding because she is in a temper. I will also write Hurst, he has become increasingly fed up with Caroline's influence over his wife and will be more than happy to assist me in finding Caroline her own place to live."

He was relieved to hear that Caroline would be leaving before the wedding, that was one less worry in a veritable sea of worries these days. He watched his friend pensively staring at the fireplace and hated to once more add to his melancholy, but knowing Mr. and Mrs. Bennet as he did, he knew he needed to speak up.

"Charles, I hate to bring this up," he hesitated to make sure he had his friend's attention, "by rights, Mr. Bennet can insist you honor the agreed upon date for the wedding. What will you do if that is the case?"

Charles seemed to deflate the more he stood there, and he hated to be the one to have to inject a dose of reality upon him, but it was a very real possibility that Mrs. Bennet would, in fact, push the issue … and, of course, Mr. Bennet would agree simply to shut her up.

"Well then, I suppose there would be no choice then but to marry as planned." Charles said in a resigned voice, "I will leave to try and get settled in an estate and come back right before the wedding. Five months should allow me to at least get things started."

"But you do love her, don't you Charles?" he hated to, but felt he had to ask.

Charles seemed lost for a moment, and then shook his head as if suddenly remembering where he was, "Oh yes … I do … I mean," he answered more forcefully, "… yes, I do love her."

"Well then my good friend, let us make a toast to friendship and new beginnings," he refilled both glasses and held one out to Charles, who hesitated and then took it with a smile.

"But first let me tell you a secret," he leaned closer to Charles and indicated he should come closer as well.

"I am not the paragon you would believe me to be Charles, I just hide my fears and foibles behind a cold and indifferent mask that keeps everyone at a distance. I have made more mistakes than I can count … how else do you think I am able to offer such concise advice? … because I want you to learn from my many errors and hopefully not have to go through the heartache I did."

When Charles still hadn't said anything, he took a chance and spoke from the heart, "Because I promise you, it was far from easy and I felt so lost after my father's death, and completely unprepared for what I had just inherited. I still feel that way sometimes … everyone does, and they are lying if they say anything different."

He finished his brandy in one gulp and looked back at his shocked friend. "So go and make your own mistakes and be proud of them, because each one brings you closer to being your own man."

Charles just shook his head and began to laugh, and he followed closely behind, not sure what they were laughing about, but grateful for the relief in brought.

"You are a good man Will Darcy," Charles said quietly as he was preparing to leave the room, "and I am proud to call you my friend."

Charles gave him a last little salute before closing the door, and he stood still for a moment as he swallowed back the emotion Charles' words has elicited.

His friend had a long way to go, and he suspected that he was marrying the wrong woman, but felt a spark of hope that Charles would eventually make it work … for he truly wanted him to be happy.

He locked the door … as he still didn't trust Caroline … finished undressing, banked the fire, blew out the candles, and buried himself under the covers. It took only minutes for his eyelids to grow heavy and as he prepared to drift off to sleep, his last thoughts were of Elizabeth.

His beautiful, desirable, wondrous Elizabeth.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This chapter was as hard as the last one, emotional breakdowns are far easier to read than write … so please be gentle with me!**

She carefully folded her favorite blue muslin dress and placed it into the trunk, her eyes searching the room for anything she might have overlooked, and checked the closet that she and Jane had shared all their lives, to find it now filled only with Jane's gowns, hers having either been packed or given to her sisters.

She fought down the sadness she felt as she looked around her. Her clothes would no longer be alongside Jane's, she would no longer share a room, a bed, or even a life with her sister anymore. In reality, it had been weeks since she had felt any particular closeness with Jane, and now, on the eve of her departure from Longbourn for good, she was feeling the loss quite keenly.

Her aunt had been a Godsend today, for without her, she doubted she would have survived the day without strangling her mother … now there was one person whom she was convinced she would not miss.

Her mother was now on a mission to outfit Lydia in a whole new wardrobe of warm clothes to suit her new station as a country farmer's wife, convinced as she was, that Mr. Robert Martin was not actually the sheep farmer he purported to be. Mrs. Bennet was convinced he was a country gentleman who was only working the farm because he wanted to, and would give up that 'dirty notion' once he realized what a lovely wife he was gaining.

Evidently deluding oneself seems to be quite a popular pastime these days.

Thankfully, it seemed as if Lydia was not completely convinced her mother was correct about the situation, and while a part of her hoped it will be as Mrs. Bennet suggests, she couldn't help lamenting, in heartfelt agony, that instead she was heading for the 'darkest pit of Hades, never to see daylight again.'

It was clear who Lydia took after.

Lizzy sat down at the window seat, hugging her favorite pillow to her chest as she looked out at the darkening sky, watching as the shadows filled the back garden. She was unable to count how many hours she had spent in this very same spot reading or daydreaming over the years, but tonight it failed to provide the comfort it usually did, and her thoughts returned to William and Charles' visit earlier that afternoon.

The gentlemen were shown in and both she and Jane gasped as soon as Charles entered the room. His face bore four long scratches along his right cheek and he blushed bright red in apparent unease and embarrassment at the fuss that was made over him.

He finally, somewhat forcefully for Charles, exclaimed that 'it was nothing serious and that he was indeed well, and would the ladies be adverse to getting some fresh air.' Jane seemed more subdued than normal after his request, but they both readily agreed. She knew something had happened, as even William seemed to be more reserved than normal and was watching Charles intently.

She didn't have to wait long to find out it seemed, for as soon as the two couples reached the crossroads they decided to split company and head in opposite directions. She and William soon found themselves happily ensconced in their favorite little hideaway and after a warm kiss of greeting … well, actually two or three kisses … she had, after all, missed him terribly … William began to tell her about his conversation with Charles the night before.

She found herself proud but a little frustrated at Charles' very poor, not to mention ill-timed, decision to finally stand up and be the man Jane needed and deserved. While she may commend the sentiment, she truly abhorred the means in which he intended to go about enacting this wondrous change in status.

Did he truly mean to abandon Jane while he attempted to make a go at something he should have figured out years ago?

Needless to say, she was understandably upset about what this would mean for Jane, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized Charles meant to honor the engagement but from afar, which, while not exactly conducive to strengthening ones regard and affection with ones future wife, would at least ensure she had an established property to move into after the wedding.

That had to count for something … right?

She wondered if Jane would see things that way … or worse yet … her mother. She shuddered at the thought of five months listening to her mother rant on daily about Charles' continued absence 'playing with the tenants while her beautiful daughter languished away in Hertfordshire' or some such nonsense only her mother could understand the logic of.

Pushing aside thoughts of Jane, she returned her focus back to the story William was telling her about the reason for the marks on Charles' face.

It turned out that Caroline hadn't taken the news that she was to be cast off very well. William admitted to fearing that Charles would back down once faced with Caroline's wrath, but he was quite proud of the way Charles stood his ground, even if he did vomit quite prodigiously after it was all over.

Charles begged for his support, so he was present during the altercation, and spent the entire episode thankful that Caroline wasn't his sister … or worse, his wife. She had begged and pleaded, cajoled, cried, and finally threatened and screamed when she realized Charles wasn't weakening in his resolve … although Lizzy suspected Charles might have had William not been present.

Finally, in a last fit of desperate pique, Caroline had taken to throwing anything within hands reach and aiming for both her brother and William, concluding, somewhat inaccurately, that he had a hand in her removal as well. Fearing for their own heads, not to mention the realization that she was nearing the fireplace tools, both men rushed towards her in an attempt to subdue the furious woman.

William attempted to restrain her flailing arms and succeeded in finally trapping one against her as he held her by the waist, but her other hand connected with Charles and she raked her nails deeply into his right cheek, at the same time as her boot connected with Darcy's shin causing him to drop her in pain.

The blood streaming down Charles' face seemed to finally shock her out of her crazed behavior, and she seemed truly appalled at how she had hurt her brother … or else she finally realized that she had lost. Either way, it was a much subdued Caroline that boarded the coach an hour later with her sister, and neither man regretted her absence.

She would be lying if she said she was surprised at Caroline's behavior, she was however, very thankful that not only would she not be at the wedding, but that maybe now Charles and Jane stood a better chance at happiness without his vicious sister hanging over their heads … even though Jane still insisted Caroline was just misunderstood and was quite sweet … maybe the scratches on her beloved's face would change Jane's opinion of the angelic Caroline.

She spent quite a few minutes inspecting Williams shin, right below the knee, which sported a large purple bruise. William shakily agreed it hurt far less after the way she had kissed every inch of it … even if he did seem quite nervous about it as he kept shifting and taking deep breaths as she did so … then quickly jumped up to tuck his breeches back into his boot refusing to even look at her.

She was just trying to be nice … sometimes she feared she would never understand men.

She decided to give him time to … do whatever it was he was doing … as he stared out across the field, and found herself wondering what Jane and Charles were discussing, and if her sister was taking the news well. She used to believe Jane would eventually tell her everything, but now she found she relied on William to share what was going on via Charles. While she enjoyed the closeness she shared with her husband to be, she still missed talking with Jane.

William finally joined her on the log looking somewhat sheepish, but she decided he must have been embarrassed that such a small woman had been able to get such a painful blow under his guard and let the issue drop.

They spent some time discussing Mr. Martin, who had agreed to the plan and would be arriving on Monday next after he had obtained the marriage license and settlement papers, all conveniently taken care of by William's solicitor. She would have liked to meet him, but decided she would be happier far away from Longbourn when Lydia's future husband arrived.

She even jokingly made the observation that maybe they should have him sign the paperwork before meeting Mrs. Bennet and Lydia so that he wasn't able to back out at the last minute.

What was meant as a joke, she realized was not, as William very seriously informed her that that was indeed the plan and his solicitor had already been advised of the situation, which caused her laughter to die in her throat at the realization that William, more than anyone, knew her mother well and had taken every precaution to secure Lydia's future.

Every day with William provided more reasons to love him, especially as it was usually a result of her own family's foolishness that such insight was revealed.

For that she appreciated him all the more.

When they realized how late it had become, they knew they must return. Though both were loathe to give up their time alone together, they thrilled at the realization that by this time tomorrow they would be on their way to London where they would spend their wedding night at Darcy House before setting off on their honeymoon … the details of which were still a surprise.

The shared a last, sweet kiss as intendeds, both thrilled with the knowledge that the next time their lips met would be as husband and wife, and set off arm in arm back towards Longbourn, each wondering where Jane and Charles had gotten to.

When they arrived back at the house, Jane was nowhere to be found, nor was Charles, but agreeing that they needed to resolve one last issue before the wedding, they both took a deep breath and knocked on the closed library door.

Mr. Bennet bade them enter, but seemed to deflate when he saw who it was, and politely, if hesitantly, asked them to take a seat. William wasted no time asking her father if he had decided to accept his proposal in regards to Miss Mary and Miss Kitty and waited patiently while Mr. Bennet steepled his fingers and simply stared at his desk.

Her father finally spoke, although it seemed as if he were very reluctant to do so, and grudgingly admitted that 'he had decided to accept, once again, Mr. Darcy's interference' … at Lizzy's quick intake of breath and sharp look, her father sighed and altered his wording … 'Mr. Darcy's _kind offer_ to send the girls to school in the North.'

Mr. Bennet admitted that he had not informed anyone of his decision as yet, assuming, he acknowledged bitterly, 'that Mr. Darcy would prefer the share the good news of his generous largesse himself.'

Lizzy couldn't believe that this mean spirited man before her was the same father she has always idolized, and she looked at him with clear eyes and in a firm voice, even though she was quaking inside, told him 'that she was ashamed of both him and his behavior, especially considering all William had done for their family. It had been Mr. Darcy that had saved their family and Lydia from ruin, had practically paid for the wedding because her mother couldn't be bothered, _and_ had reunited Jane and Charles, not to mention making it possible for both Mary and Kitty to better themselves and hopefully someday make a good match as well.'

His only response to her tirade, even as he seemed to visibly age ten years right before her eyes, was to mutter 'exactly, but then you will no longer need me when you have such a paragon for a husband,' before walking out of the room.

She sat down heavily and willed her tears not to come, and for once, they obeyed. Could her father really just be jealous that she had chosen another man over him?

After making sure she was alright, William admitted that he had some final business to attend to, and as she had yet to pack herself and told him so, he reluctantly took his leave.

She spent the remainder of the afternoon packing up her life, both literally and figuratively, as she felt the last vestiges of her childhood disappearing forever.

She took a break for dinner, and although her father didn't make an appearance and Jane seemed unnaturally subdued, the excited chatter of Mary and Kitty more than made up for the lack elsewhere. It seemed her father had informed the girls of William's offer and they were thrilled at the prospect of not only spending the summer at Pemberley, but starting school in the North as well.

Lydia had tried to make pointed comments about how 'boring school would be' and 'how lucky she was not to have to attend,' but no one seemed to pay her any mind, a fact which quite irritated her, causing her to finally leave the table in an angry huff.

Mrs. Bennet seemed quite immune to Mary and Kitty's good fortune, and after commenting briefly on 'how quiet the house would be in their absence, which would allow her to properly plan Jane's wedding,' she made no further comments on the subject and spent the remainder of the meal making menu suggestions to Jane, who tried her best to appease her mother without actually being forced to answer.

It had been decided that Mary and Kitty would join them at Pemberley in August, which would allow both girls sufficient time to be outfitted for the harsher northern climate, and give them a chance to spend some time with the Darcy's before starting school. William had located a lovely school that was only a half a days drive from Pemberley, and catered to girls from all social classes, unlike the one Georgiana had attended, so that they wouldn't be slighted or feel out of place due to their lack of wealth and connections.

She and William would be on their honeymoon for a month, although he still stubbornly refused to divulge where they would be going, which would give her a couple of weeks to adjust to her new role as Mistress of Pemberley before they arrived.

She was both scared and excited about all that her new life would entail, but she knew that no matter what, William would be beside her the whole way. Knowing that settled her nerves and hastened her out of the dining room and back into her room to resume packing. She had hoped to get it finished and get to bed early so she would be refreshed and bright eyed for her big day … but it was not to be.

Her mother made an appearance shortly after dinner and sat down on the edge of the bed wringing her hands, whether out of nervousness or tension she couldn't guess, but it was few moments before her mother began her obviously prepared speech. It didn't take long for Lizzy to realize that her mother's version of what would occur on her wedding night sounded like something from a Radcliffe novel … all blood and pain and screaming … and she wisely attempted to shut out her mother's words.

It wasn't until her mother began to share tips on the best excuses to use to discourage the dreaded nightly visits, that she quickly thanked her mother and ushered her out of the room. She wasn't sure whom was more relieved to end the discussion, she or her mother, but it was with a heartfelt sigh of relief that she returned to her packing.

Hill knocked next, but she came bearing a tea tray filled with her favorite sweets and cakes, and offered a teary hug of farewell, so she could hardly begrudge the interruption, and gratefully poured herself a bracing cup of tea. She savored the respite and before long found herself laughing at her mothers warnings.

She may not be as knowledgeable about what went on between a man and a woman as her mother, but she sincerely doubted, based on her prior experiences with William, that it would be the horrid experience her mother warned her about. While she admitted to being a bit nervous about the act itself, she was quite looking forward to seeing if it was as pleasurable as everything else she and William had done so far, and she doubted she would need to make up excuses to keep him out of her bed … the problem being, how to get him back into it.

She blushed as the wanton thought crossed her mind, but remembered William assuring her that he wanted her to express her passions to him, she only hoped he meant it.

Well … tomorrow would tell.

She finally placed the last item into her trunk and firmly secured it, then called for Hill's two sons to cart it downstairs to be placed in William's carriage after the ceremony tomorrow. After pouring herself another cup of the still warm tea, she sat back down on the window seat.

She heard a tentative knock on the door before it opened slowly to reveal Jane, looking hesitant and uncertain. "Can I come in Lizzy?"she asked quietly.

"Of course Jane, this is your room too," the words, _even if you haven't been sleeping here_, remaining unsaid. She set down her empty cup and curled her legs up to her chest to make room for her sister to sit down.

Jane opted to sit on the edge of the bed and looked at her hands, seemingly unable to find the words to say what she had come to.

"I talked to Charles," she began quietly, "he has had quite a revelation of late."

When Jane finally looked up and saw that she didn't look surprised at the news that had shattered her serene world, she added with some asperity, "Of course you already know that as Mr. Darcy has probably told you everything."

Stung by the accusation aimed at William, she answered her sister more harshly than she had intended. "Yes, he told me, but it is only because we share things and William was concerned for you and Charles."

"Yes, well, we know what happens when William is _concerned_ for his friend, don't we?" Jane asked rhetorically in a voice she had never heard before.

"Yes we do," she said quietly, stung by Jane's words, "he makes them right again, as _you_ well know. What happens now is up to you and Charles."

Jane seemed to slump in defeat at her words, and wiped a tear from her cheek before replying, her tone now conciliatory.

"I know … I … I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so accusing … its just … ," she paused and it was a moment before she spoke again, " … its just that nothing is the same. Charles has this crazy idea about leaving for months on end and finding some estate in some far off county and making a go at being Mr. Darcy," seeing Lizzy's confusion, Jane clarified her words.

"He didn't say that exactly, but I know that's what he meant. He wants to _be his own man _or something. But I thought he already was … so why now? … and why like this?"Jane sounded truly distressed and she wanted to help her sister understand, but she wasn't sure she could.

"Jane, he is just tired of allowing other people to make all his decisions for him and is trying to stand on his own two feet for a change. I quite respect that he's making the effort, and if you think about it, you should as well. It means he is trying to be a better man for you … not one who is governed by his spiteful sister or even his well intentioned friends." she added with a small rueful smile.

She could see Jane's face heat up but couldn't discern whether or not her words had any impact on her sister. It wasn't long however, before the Jane she had always known and loved returned, true to form.

Her blatant blindness about reality, however, she no longer found endearing.

"Lizzy, I wish you wouldn't be so hard on Caroline, she really is just misunderstood. She is quite sweet and kind once you get to know her." Jane said beseechingly.

"How can you say that after what she did to Charles … you saw his face … does that look like it came from someone sweet and kind?" she asked Jane in exasperation.

"Well … she was angry and hurt … and how can you blame her, she is being forced out of his life for no reason. I tried to talk Charles into changing his mind, but he remained surprisingly stubborn about the whole thing and then refused to talk about it any longer."

Jane looked completely perplexed about Charles' lack of concern for his sister, and the way he disregarded her opinion on the matter.

"Jane … look at me," Lizzy said in a restrained voice, "Caroline has been after Charles for months to break off his engagement to you," she spoke clearly so that Jane would understand every word she spoke.

"The real reason Charles sent his sister away, although why _he_ didn't tell you this is beyond me, is because after this thing with Lydia, Caroline has been harping on him constantly to break all contact with our family," she paused at the shocked look on her sister's face.

"Jane, Charles sent his sister away _for you_! He defied her and is trying to make things better for _your sake_ … do you see now why I can't tolerate the woman? Well, that and the fact that she is always trying to throw herself at William like a cat in heat while badmouthing me … not that she succeeded in the end," she chucked at her own analogy, but stopped abruptly at Jane's horrified expression.

"Elizabeth Anne Bennet, how dare you speak of someone that way. I can't believe you would use such crass and vulgar terms to describe a genteel lady like Caroline," Jane hesitated and seemed to swallow what she was going to say next when she saw the look on her face.

"While I will admit that her behavior towards Charles was a bit … untoward … and I confess I am not pleased to hear that she has been trying to convince Charles to break his obligation to me … she is still soon to be my sister, and I will not have you speaking ill of her."

Jane seemed shocked at her own outburst and blushed deeply, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just chosen where her loyalties lie … and it wasn't with the soon to be Mrs. Darcy.

If Jane chose to remain blind to everything that was truly happening around her, than Lizzy decided that she would no longer lose any sleep over it.

She did however, have one last thing to say.

"Jane, I am sorry you have chosen to side with that vile woman over me, but I accept that is your decision. I won't however, pretend any longer that your recent distance hasn't hurt me greatly. I truly wish the best for you and Charles, and hope that you are blessed with many healthy children, but I am afraid, especially considering your current revelation, that I will be unable to attend your wedding … as I too have made my choice."

She turned back towards the window to hide the tears that threatened to fall at any moment and heard her sister's sharp intake of breath behind her. She then felt tentative hands in her hair and heard Jane's tear filled voice pleading with her.

"Oh Lizzy, I am so sorry, that's not what I meant at all," Jane knelt before her and pulled her around to face her, "I am just so mixed up about everything lately, and everything I've always known and believed seems to be upside down and backwards … and I just can't … can't seem to make sense of it … I'm so very confused," Jane reached up and stroked her cheek.

The tears she had been trying to hold in made their way slowly down her face as Jane continued to speak.

"I am so sorry if I made you feel unloved … I do love you Lizzy … I was just so happy about the engagement … and then Charles was so wonderful … and mama started making all these grand plans … and I got excited … and … and … oh Lizzy … can't you see? Can't you understand how I felt?" Jane stopped as if realizing for the first time exactly what she had just said.

"Yes Jane," she said regretfully, "I understand _exactly_ how you felt."

Jane, sensing her faux paux but needing Lizzy to understand, continued speaking.

"I have always known mama thinks I'm beautiful, and sweet and kind … I'm like her own little doll, created to ensure she never has to starve in the hedgerows. The thing is, I realized that I would never be smart like you, or play the piano like Mary, or even be as outgoing and spontaneous as Kitty and Lydia … all I had was my looks and genteel manners."

Jane stood and wrapped her arms around herself and spoke of things she had never before voiced.

"Mama may have seemed to dote on me, but it wasn't love … I was her prized commodity to be sold to the highest bidder … ," Jane's voice had a bitter edge as she continued to speak.

" … and papa didn't respect anyone but you … no matter how good I behaved, or how clean and neat I kept my clothes … you would come traipsing in with a torn dress, covered in mud and grass and papa would praise your courage and sense of adventure … nothing I did seemed to garner any praise from him," she paused and looked towards her sister as if begging her to understand.

"Until Charles came back and suddenly he was angry at you and spent time with me … and I … I liked it. I know it was unfair to you, but I couldn't seem to help myself … for the first time in my life everything was perfect," Jane saw the hurt on her sister's face and seemed to deflate again.

"Well, everything was perfect for me," Jane sank back down on the bed and spoke very quietly,

"But then everything fell apart again … and once again Mr. Darcy swooped in to save the day … not Charles … never Charles."

She was finally starting to understand where Jane's seeming animosity towards William was coming from … she wished that Charles would have been the hero … then her fairytale would have been complete. She wasn't sure whether she felt anger or sympathy for Jane, but frankly, she was too emotionally drained to try and figure it out.

"Jane," she hesitated, not really sure what she even wanted to say at this point, "I am sorry you ever felt like I was receiving preferential treatment … I would have thought all the insults mama threw at me while papa simply laughed about it would have clued you in that my life wasn't all roses and sunshine … but I suppose we all view the world from our own unique perspective and we fail to see it from others," she paused and sighed heavily.

"The thing is Jane, tomorrow is my wedding day. I am marrying my knight … the one person who has been there for me this last month unquestionably … the man who incites my passions, and fills my heart. He is not perfect, but then again neither am I, but we love each other … despite all that has happened … we love each other."

She stood and took a deep breath before crossing the room and kneeling in front of Jane.

"That's real … and I have no illusions that papa will magically have forgiven me for whatever it is I have done to disappoint him … or that mama will hold her tongue and refrain from embarrassing us all … or even that Lydia will not somehow make a spectacle of herself … or that you will be the same old Jane I have always relied upon … or that the past month has never happened."

She reached up and kissed Jane, as her sister's tears continued to run unchecked down her cheeks.

"What is also real, is that I love you, and though you have hurt me, regardless of what you have done, I love you still," she paused and made sure Jane was looking at her.

"But, I think you have a lot of growing up to do, and I hope you do it before you marry Charles or you may both be miserable … its not easy living up to a dream."

She hugged Jane to soften the impact of her words and walked her towards the door.

"Now, forgive me, but I'm exhausted … and I can't handle any more emotional confessions tonight … so go to bed and we will talk more later."

She gently pushed the unresisting Jane out the door and closed it firmly behind her as she sank down to the floor and put her head in her hands.

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough!


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Okay, time for a wedding … unfortunately, the chapter got away from me and got way too long to include the wedding night as well … and do them both justice. **

She awoke just as the sun was peeking over the windowsill and laid there a moment longer, simply relishing the fact that today was her wedding day.

Today _she_ would become Mrs. Darcy.

Tonight she would _become_ William's wife.

She could hear the sounds of movement below and knew it wouldn't be long before someone would be coming to wake her up. Sure enough, the pounding of footsteps could be heard followed by the resounding voice of her mother calling for the ever patient Hill.

"HILL!" Fanny Bennet shrieked as she opened the door to Lizzy's room, "Well? … what are you waiting for missy? Up, up, up," her mother's shrill voice was almost painful after the restless night she had spent.

"Just because its your wedding day doesn't mean you will be waited on hand and foot, now get up and drink your tea … oh heavens," she exclaimed in exasperation after discovering that a tea tray had not been brought up yet, "must I do everything myself … HILL! … TEA … BATH … LIZZY! … NOWWWW!"

She quickly got out of bed in the hopes her mother would leave her in peace, but to no avail. No sooner had one of the new kitchen maids arrived with tea and fresh biscuits, than Mrs. Bennet had shoved her into a chair where a cup of tea was thrust unceremoniously into her slack hands. It was only her quick reflexes that prevented the scalding liquid from spilling down the front of her nightgown and burning her.

"Mama … please … uummpphh!" she cried in frustration, as her mother, completely oblivious to the the near mishap with the tea, shoved a hot biscuit into her daughter's open mouth.

"Lizzy, not now girl. I don't have time for any of your silliness this morning. You have to get your bath so your sisters can get theirs, and then you have to get dressed, and I have to make sure the food is done, and the buffet set out correctly, and make sure your father is ready on time … you know how he is … then there's … ," she stopped her tirade mid sentence and yelled out the door once again.

"HILL … BATH! … I swear, I don't know what that woman is getting up to this morning," she muttered angrily as she watched her daughter sharply to ensure she was eating fast enough.

"Eat girl, eat!" she told her daughter impatiently, before striding out into the hall again to look down the stairs. "HILL … WHERE IS THAT BATHWATER?"

Today she would finally _leave_ Longbourn!

Today she would _finally_ leave Longbourn!

That thought carried her through her mothers tirades, Lydia's complaints that she was taking too long in the bath, Mary and Kitty both eager to talk about school and visiting Pemberley, Jane's attempts to speak privately with her before finally giving up, and her aunt's attempts to keep her calm … a near impossible task in this house … while also ensuring she was ready on time.

When she was finally dressed, Lizzy took a moment to look at herself and hardly recognized the woman standing in front of her. The cream satin gown with an overdress of blue and cream striped gauze and trimmed lightly in Brussels lace gave her skin a rosy glow and highlighted the creaminess of her slightly bared shoulders.

The opalescent pearls, a wedding gift from her aunt and uncle, highlighted the slender gracefulness of her neck while lending an air of elegance and beauty, and the elbow length cream gloves emphasized the delicacy of her hands and wrists.

Her hair was coiffed in a loose bun that allowed small curls to frame her face and neck, softening her features; small sprigs of sweetly scented jasmine and baby white roses, which contrasted perfectly against her dark locks, were woven throughout to soften the look even more, and satin kid slippers, very impractical but lovely all the same, completed her ensemble.

She looked like a bride.

She felt like a bride.

She was getting married today!

"LIZZY … LIZZY!" her mother's incessant screaming shattered her moment of peace and she sighed in resignation, wasting no more time in front of the looking glass.

Needless to say, by the time it came to leave for the church she had never been more ready for Bedlam in her life … maybe she and William could honeymoon there … it had to be quieter than Longbourn …

Honeymoon … William … far away … uuummm!

Her aunt stopped her as she was about to descend the stairs, and beckoned her back into her room, shutting the door to drown out Mrs. Bennet's dire warnings about being late, and sat Lizzy down on the bed before taking a seat next to her.

"Lizzy, I just wanted a minute before we leave," her aunt gazed at her with soft eyes and spoke quietly but with deep sincerity, "it will be a while before I see you again and I will miss you my dear," she hugged her aunt, and realized they both had tears in their eyes as her aunt continued to speak, her voice filled with emotion.

"You have found a good man in Mr. Darcy Lizzy, but just remember that marriage takes work. Mr. Darcy is a strong man, one used to getting his own way … and you are stubborn and have quite a temper when riled," her aunt's voice was filled with humor instead of recriminations, and she found herself wishing, for the thousandth time, that Aunt Gardiner had been her mother instead of Fanny Bennet.

"You will need to be patient and promise that you will never go to bed angry with one another," at her confused look her aunt clarified her statement.

"If you make a vow to never go to bed angry, you will be forced to talk about what's bothering you … the sooner you discuss the problem, the sooner it can be resolved. Your uncle and I have lived by this rule our entire married life and it has done wonders for us. Once you can learn to communicate effectively, you will have discovered the secret of a happy marriage … not that you won't still have issues, you will just be better prepared to deal with them."

She hugged her aunt, grateful for the advice, and her aunt whispered into her ear, "Besides, it is always more fun to make up after a good fight … it gets the blood heated up."

She laughed at her aunt's quip and kissed her cheek, "Tell me again why you couldn't have been my mother?" she asked wistfully.

"I am where it counts sweetheart," her aunt murmured as she hugged her close, placing a hand over her heart to emphasize her point. They shared a quiet moment together, savoring the closeness of their bond.

They decided they needed to head downstairs after Mrs. Bennet gave another particularly loud bellow. Honestly, that woman had a serious set of lungs on her, and before they knew it they were at the church. She stepped down from the carriage and waited outside until she received word that they were ready for her to enter.

She saw her father standing a few feet away and walked towards him, deciding to make one final attempt at reconciliation … today was a day for new beginnings after all.

"You know papa," she began quietly, "he is a good man, and he will take very good care of me. I wish you would give him a chance," she stopped when she realized that her father had taken her hand and placed it on his arm.

"Lets just get you married Lizzy girl … we can worry about the rest later," he smiled a sad smile, but she wasn't exactly sure what he had meant by his cryptic words. Did that meant he agreed with her or was he just putting her off again?

And she suddenly didn't care … because there, at the alter waiting for her, with a dazed look on his face, but more handsome than she had ever seem him, was her William. The past four weeks all melted away as she walked towards her future, barely noticing as her father placed her hand into Williams. She had a vague notion that he kissed her cheek and told her he loved her, but she only had eyes … and ears … for her husband to be.

When their eyes met, all the love he felt for her was shining out for all to see, but they also held many promises that were for her alone. She suspected hers carried the same message.

She felt the ring William slid on her finger as he spoke in a clear strong voice about loving and honoring her, his eyes growing misty … or were they her eyes that had suddenly filled?

Her hand was shaking as she slid the warm metal onto his finger and her voice was unsteady as she made similar vows to obey and love … how was it possible to feel this much without bursting?

Her heart soared as the official announced that they were man and wife … Mr. and Mrs. Darcy!

Then the kiss … the sweet and tender promise to cherish … the declaration to the world that they were now joined as one … the bonding of their hearts and lives.

Forever.

Then she felt his arms around her and she was spinning, and not just from her emotions; William was spinning her around and laughing … they had finally done it!

After all the misunderstandings and harsh words … despite family crisis and disapproval … a near elopement … a hanging … and a she cow determined to compromise her man … they had persevered and now nothing … and no one … could ever part them again.

Unfortunately, reality intruded on their moment of joy in the form of Mrs. Bennet.

"Yes, yes … happy days … now why don't you two greet your guests so that we can head back to Longbourn before the food gets too cold," hearing her mother hiss out her request while wearing a large fake smile was almost too much, and she and William shared a pained look of commiseration.

They only had to deal with Mrs. Bennet for another hour or two.

"Yes mama," she sighed impatiently, then turning to embrace Georgiana who had been hopping up and down excitedly waiting for her chance to congratulate the couple.

"Oh Lizzy," Georgiana practically squeaked in her excitement, "now we are truly sisters, and I couldn't ask for anyone better," she leaned in closer and whispered, "He really does love you, you know. I have never seen William so happy before," she wiped the tear that had leaked from her eye as she looked over at her brother hugging his aunt and then Georgiana turned back to address her once more.

"Thank you sister," the young girl said sweetly before kissing her cheek and turning her over to the rest of the guests.

The well wishers formed a sort of line and soon everyone had been hugged, kissed and thanked and they once again found themselves alone again for the short ride to Longbourn. They did however, use the time wisely, and it was a very flushed and only slightly mussed Mr. and Mrs. Darcy that arrived at the wedding breakfast some twenty minutes later.

William was still refusing to tell her where they were going for their wedding trip, all she had been able to glean from him so far had been that they would spend a few days at his house in London before departing. He did say that he had wanted to take her to Italy, but that oceanic crossings were far from safe during these turbulent times, but he promised to take her once Napoleon was no longer a problem.

The guests all seemed to be enjoying the sumptuous buffet, but conversation was strained and neither her mother, father, Charles or Jane were anywhere to be seen. It was obvious that something had occurred before they had arrived, but she was unsure exactly what.

She finally caught her aunt's eye, and excused herself from Mrs. Lucas' effusive congratulations and compliments, to speak to her. Her aunt led her over to an unoccupied corner of the room and softly told her what had happened. It was obvious from her tone that she was far from pleased that Mrs. Bennet had chosen to make a public spectacle of herself at her daughter's wedding breakfast.

"Evidently, your mother has finally been informed that Charles is planning to close up Netherfield and going in search of a small estate near Somerset or Dorset, and that he wouldn't be back until a week or two before his wedding to Jane," her aunt spoke quietly, but quickly.

"Your mother had been counting on moving into Netherfield after Mr. Bennet died, which as you know she is convinced will be any day now, and her shriek when she discovered that not only would Jane and Charles be moving so far away, but that they wouldn't see the groom for over four months, startled all of the guests into silence. I also suspect she is upset because she most likely intended to use Mr. Bingley's money to pay for Jane's wedding like she did with Mr. Darcy."

Her aunt continued her story after making sure they were not being overheard, she noticed that William's aunt was whispering something to him as well, and their eyes met before he gave her a conspiratorial wink.

"Charles attempted to placate Mrs. Bennet, but Jane shooed him away telling him that 'he had done enough damage already' and quickly ushered your mother from the room. Mr. Bennet left as well, although we both know he is probably shut away in his library by now, so I think it is safe to say that you and Mr. Darcy are free to leave as soon as you desire as I doubt many people will be staying much longer now that the show is over."

Her aunt gave her another strong hug and warned her to write often, before going in search of her husband, and it was a only a few minutes after her aunt left that William joined her. He looked about as ready to leave as she did, and she decided they might as well get on with it.

"How about we get something to eat and then we can get on the road, I didn't sleep well last night and a nap in the carriage actually sounds like heaven," she smiled at her husband … _her husband … _to see if he agreed, and she found him staring at her intensely.

"Yes, a nap would be nice," he whispered close to her ear to prevent anyone from overhearing,

"I want you to be well rested for tonight my love."

She was sure her blush gave away the subject of their conversation to anyone that bothered to glance their way, and she took a few deep breaths to slow her suddenly rapid breathing. While she was very excited about tonight, she admitted to be a little frightened as well. She knew her mother's words from the night before could be disregarded, owing to her mother's propensity for over exaggeration, but there must have been some truth in them … and that was what she found a little unnerving.

She decided to put the matter aside for the moment, there would be plenty of time to be nervous later. For now, she wanted to eat at least something from the feast William had paid for, and then say good bye to her neighbors and friends so they could be on their way.

It took almost another whole hour before they had eaten, although very little, and made the rounds among the well wishers. Her mother, father, Jane and Charles still had not returned at this point, so her Aunt Gardiner had to step in and taken over the duties of hostess; making sure everyone was well fed before subtly and graciously encouraging the guests to depart.

William bade farewell to his aunt, uncle, cousin and sister, who would be staying with the Fitzwilliams until August, and joined Lizzy in searching for her missing relatives.

Both Mary and Kitty cried when she hugged them, but they were buoyed by the fact that they would see each other again in less than two months time. Lydia was nowhere to be found, not that either she or William exerted themselves overly much attempting to locate her, and they finally made their way to the library.

They could hear raised voices from within and she was sorely tempted to just forgo the farewells to her remaining family members and leave right then, but she knew she would never hear the end of it … and she really did want to at least give them a chance at being civil one last time … but this would be her very last attempt. Any overtures made from this point on would have to be made by them.

She looked up at William, thankful for his support, and knocked on the closed door. There was no answer but then she doubted a knock would even be heard over the shouting, so she took a deep breath and opened the door.

The scene inside the library would have been comical if it wasn't so disturbing. Her father, face red and hair disheveled was attempting to physically restrain her mother who was screaming at the red faced Charles who's fists were clenched tightly at his side as if he were trying very hard to restrain himself from hitting a woman … and she completely commiserated with him … she had felt that way many times with her mother.

Jane was seated in the corner; pale and shaking, her hands covering her mouth as if to hold back a scream, and her eyes were wide and full of tears.

" … DON'T YOU CALM DOWN MRS. BENNET, ME … YOU … YOU LYING … SNEAKY … UUMMPPHH!,"

Mrs. Bennet's angry tirade was abruptly cut off as Mr. Bennet slapped a hand over her mouth to preclude whatever vitriol she was in the process of spitting out … and the room went blissfully quiet. Her mother however, continued to struggle and fight her father until he had enough and lost his temper.

"MRS. BENNET … FANNY … WOMAN … STOP YOUR NONSENSE THIS INSTANT!" his angry yell finally shocked Mrs. Bennet into temporary submission, "Either calm yourself and comport yourself as a lady should," he glared at her severely while giving her a shake for good measure, "or I will put you over my knee right this minute and punish you like the child you are behaving as … and then you will be confined to your room for the next fortnight … have I made myself clear?"

Mrs. Bennet, completely overcome with fright at the wild and angry man standing before her that had somehow replaced her mild mannered and easily controlled husband, nodded meekly.

Lizzy found herself just as amazed at the transformation, and wondered briefly if their lives would have been any different if her father had shown this side of himself more often … especially to Lydia.

Charles seemed to marginally relax now that Mrs. Bennet's screams were no longer reverberating shrilly around the room, and ran his hands distractedly through his hair. Jane seemed too afraid to speak or even move, as she continued to stare fixedly at the man whom she had always thought was her father, but now looked as if she were no longer sure.

Assuming, correctly as it turned out, that this whole chaotic episode had been as a result of Charles' announcement, and her mother's dramatic and emotional reaction to it, she decided that it was no longer her problem, and had no desire to have her special day ruined over family squabbles that didn't immediately affect either her or William.

Besides, this was her bloody wedding day … and they were bloody ruining it!

She cleared her throat and watched the surprise cross the faces in the room as they noticed she and William for the first time.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said sarcastically, "just thought you should know … Aunt Gardiner has ensured all the guests were taken care of since you were … busy," she gave her mother a pointed look, "and they have all departed, completely unaware … thankfully … of the tempest brewing in here, but then they had already received one show this morning."

She saw Charles give William a guilty look, but William turned away and rested his hand on the small of her back. He knew she needed to say this … it had been a long time coming.

"I would thank you for the lovely wedding, but as William paid for, planned and organized most of it … I won't. I would thank you for all of your well wishes and loving support over the last four weeks, but as there hasn't been any forthcoming … again, I won't," she paused to catch her breath.

"What I will say … unequivocally and without regret … is goodbye!"

She grabbed William's hand and they left the stunned occupants of the room gaping after them as they exited the house, boarded the elegant carriage, and departed for London.

Neither looked back.

She finally breathed a sigh of relief as they passed through Meryton without incident, and she felt William pull her closer into his side so she could rest her head against his chest only to discover that it was shaking too much for her to relax and she looked up at him to ascertain the cause.

William was laughing. Not a small chuckle or a brief guffaw, but a full out, deep belly, can't catch your breath, laugh.

"D … did you s … s … see their f … f … faces?" he choked out in between gasping breaths.

"Th … they looked l … l … like s … s … salmon."

His laughter proved to be contagious, and when she finally joined him, she felt the last vestiges of her tension release.

It took them quite a while before they were able to catch their breath again, but they both felt much more at ease and eagerly inspected the basket that had been placed on the opposite seat in search of something to drink. A large container of lemonade, still cold and very sweet, along with some grapes, cheese, and a fresh loaf of bread, made for a satisfying repast as neither had eaten much at breakfast.

Comfortably full and tucked back under his arm, she asked the question that had been hanging in the air since they had left her home.

"Do you think I was too harsh?" If she were honest, it had felt quite good to speak her mind and allow some of the bitterness and resentment she had been feeling for a month free rein, but now, while not regretting her words, she wondered at her ill timing.

"No sweetheart, you said it much nicer than I would have," he kissed her softly on the nose in reassurance. "But remind me never to snub you publicly, my little tigress."

She wanted to kiss him to show how much she appreciated his words, but was hesitant to start anything amorous when they still had a few more hours of travel left and she didn't want things to escalate … as they tended to do when they were together … while in a moving carriage with footman and a driver within hearing range. So she settled for a kiss on his cheek.

"Have I told you today how very much I love you Fitzwilliam Darcy?" she snuggled back into his chest and closed her eyes, struggling to hold back a yawn. She felt him place a soft kiss on her hair.

"Yes Mrs. Darcy, but I never tire of hearing it. I love you too … my Elizabeth."

She felt herself drifting off to sleep as the carriage swayed back and forth. She was full, warm, comfortable … and loved. What more could she possibly ask for?


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: See, I promised this would be quick. I have updated the rating, so that they can enjoy themselves on their wedding night. I know I usually alternate POV's, and it's Darcy's turn, but I really want this experience to be from Lizzy's. I have also decided to add a few more chapters to tie up all those loose ends I left hanging, so expect four or five more chapters ... but they will stretch over a longer time period.**

The abrupt cessation of movement woke her from a very good nap and she glanced over to see that William had fallen asleep as well, his face relaxed and a small smile gracing his handsome features. She hated to wake him, but sensed the footman's slight impatience to assist them from the carriage, just as she was anxious to freshen up after the long and dusty ride.

"William," she shook his shoulder gently and he startled awake, looking around in evident surprise at their arrival.

"I think we're here," she looked out of the carriage window at the imposing four story building, "although, as I've never seen your home, I am merely making an educated guess … under the assumption that the driver knows where you do, in fact, live," she gave him a mischievous smile and he responded in kind.

"Your impertinence Mrs. Darcy," he replied teasingly, as he nibbled softly on her ear, "may very well get you into trouble, now let us alight and I will show you _our_ home."

He stepped out of the carriage and reached in to assist her, retaining his hold on her hand as he led her into the house. The servants must have been alerted to their arrival as they were lined up in the entrance hall, all neatly pressed uniforms and nervous smiles.

She suspected her answering smile was just as nervous, and made an attempt to add as much warmth to her greeting as possible, while gripping William's hand tightly.

A middle aged woman with slightly graying hair approached them with a smile, "Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, welcome. I trust the trip wasn't too taxing."

"No. Thank you," William responded before turning and introducing her, "Elizabeth, this is my housekeeper, Mrs. Hamstead. Mrs. Hamstead, I'd like you to meet my wife, Mrs. Darcy," the pride in his voice as he called her his wife touched her heart and she gave him a large smile before greeting the housekeeper.

Mrs. Hamstead reminded her a little of Hill, she had that same warm motherly feel to her, and she suspected they would get along just fine.

Mrs. Hamstead then introduced the rest of the servants, although she knew she would need to work on remembering all their names. Longbourn had only a housekeeper, a cook, a scullery maid, a ladies maid that all the girls shared, and a stable hand. Darcy House alone had more than double that amount and she hated to think how many more there would be at Pemberley.

She greeted each person in what she hoped was a friendly voice, but while a few offered her a small smile, and all were very respectful, most seemed tentative around her, and she found herself wondering if they had imagined that William would be bringing home a wife similar to Caroline Bingley … some snooty, society miss that would be demanding and churlish.

She promised herself she would make every effort to learn everyone's name, she knew Caroline had a habit of calling the servants of Netherfield whatever she felt like because she couldn't be bothered to learn their actual names and she had not been well liked as a result. She wanted William to be proud of her; she intended to be the best Mistress she could possibly be.

She waited as Mrs Hamstead paused at the last young woman in line. She was very tall and thin with tightly coiled black hair and she was introduced as Monique, her new abigail. Monique smiled shyly at her before curtseying deeply.

"There is a bath ready for each of you and dinner is prepared and will be served at your leisure," Mrs. Hamstead said in her efficient Hill voice before giving them another warm smile.

She felt herself relaxing.

"Very good Mrs. Hamstead, thank you," William responded quickly, after dismissing the rest of the staff. "We would like dinner set out in my sitting room in one hour please."

Her heart began to beat faster as she realized that they would be alone together … in his bed chamber … in one hour.

"Is that alright my love," he kissed her hand and waited for her response.

"Yes … yes, of course … that's … that would be fine," she replied nervously, his answering smile was reassuring and understanding, and he kissed her hand once more before escorting her up the stairs to her rooms … which were conveniently connected to his.

"I had the room redecorated and I hope you like it. My mother's taste ran more to dark burgundy's and deep purples, and I thought you'd appreciate something lighter and brighter," his voice sounded unsure and she could tell he was eager for her to like the changes he had made for her.

The room, or rooms, as there was a bedroom, a sitting room and a separate area for bathing … were more luxurious than she had ever encountered before., and it was bit intimidating, although the daily bath, she suspected, she could get used to quite easily.

Her mother had considered it wasteful to bathe more than once a week, and she knew many others who felt even that was too often. No longer would she have to take turns sharing a bath with five sisters once a week, while trying to wash daily with a basin full of tepid water … she supposed money did have some privileges.

She looked around and found herself quite pleased with what he had done, the rooms were decorated in varying shades of blue, green and cream, and the end result was airy, light and pleasing … exactly what she would have chosen, and she was touched by his thoughtfulness.

"It is perfect William, I love it," she exclaimed happily as she kissed his cheek.

He seemed relieved at her evident approval, and after another minute of awkward silence, he excused himself and entered his own rooms, throwing her a last shy smile before closing the door.

She inspected the room, partly in curiosity, and partly out of nervousness while Monique readied her bath, and found a large cupboard filled with the creations Mrs. Fontaine had created for her, more gowns than she had ever had in her life … more gowns that she and all her sisters had together. She also found rows of boots and slippers, drawers filled with gloves and delicate silk stockings, and many many nightgowns, one of which, a lovely confection of silk so fine it was nearly transparent, was lying across her bed, presumably for her to put on after her bath.

Her stomach took a nose dive and she found her hands shaking at the thought of what tonight would entail. She knew it was simply the fear of the unknown that was affecting her nerves; William had never hurt her, and had always been more than gentle … and he had proven that intimacies between a man and a woman could be pleasurable … very, very pleasurable … so she needed to just relax and trust that despite what she had heard, tonight would be the same.

Besides, she might finally get to see him … in the nude … and wasn't that something worth being pleased about?

Yes … yes … yes!

"Madame Darcy," a soft voice interrupted her pleasant imaginings, "your bath is ready."

She didn't know why, but with a name like Monique, she had expected the girl to be French, instead she spoke with a soft English accent.

"Thank you Monique," she smiled and was relieved to receive an answering smile in return.

She had always been on good terms with Sally, their abigail from Longbourn, and had enjoyed their many enlightening talks while getting her hair done … she hoped that she and Monique would eventually have the same closeness.

She was no Caroline Bingley!

The bathwater was steaming and softly scented with jasmine and roses, and she allowed the heat to soothe away any residual stiffness from the carriage ride, and relax away her trepidation concerning what the night held in store. In fact, the heat had the added benefit of warming her body in much the same way William did when he looked at her … and kissed her … and touched her.

She refrained from washing her hair as she had done it just that morning, and her thick curls took forever to dry, but she washed her body very thoroughly with the softest soap she had ever used, and after a final rinse with clean water, she was enveloped in a thick towel and dried thoroughly … which she had only allowed after Monique insisted that Mr. Darcy had wanted her pampered on her wedding night.

She made sure Monique knew that tonight was special, and that she didn't expect nor desire to be pampered so every night, she was quite used to being self sufficient and could dress herself and even do her own hair, albeit only in simple styles.

She allowed Monique to rub a light and softly scented oil into her skin, especially her hands and feet, which bore the marks of her adventurous nature. She relaxed and enjoyed the sensation as Monique brushed out her hair and braided it into a loose plait, before sliding the nightgown over her head.

Lying innocuously on the bed, the gown had seemed almost transparent, once on however, it was revealed to be even more so, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. She quickly donned the matching dressing gown, which thankfully covered her completely while still managing to hint at the curves underneath.

She dismissed Monique, and nervously made her way to the connecting door to William's bedchamber and hesitated.

Was the hour up already?

Was she supposed to wait for him to come and get her or was she to go to him?

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she nervously gripped the door handle and entered his room. The first thing she saw … and how could she miss it as it dominated the entire room … was an enormous four poster bed, bigger than any bed she had ever seen before.

_Good Lord, you could sleep a family of five in that bed_, she thought in amazement, before her eyes latched onto the only other thing of interest in the room … William.

He must have just finished his bath, because he stood before her in only a towel and she was struck by his unassailable masculine beauty. His hair had been roughly dried, but her astonished eyes followed the single droplet of water that fell from his hair down the smooth lines of his chest; her pulse hammering at the sight of his broad chest partially covered in dark curling hair.

She watched in rapt fascination, her body and mind frozen in place, as the drop of water continued along the hard planes of his abdomen following the line of hair that led to parts unknown, currently covered by the low slung cloth. His heavily muscled thighs were covered with the same dark hair and his skin looked slightly pink from the heat of the water.

She had never seen so much skin before … ever … and she blushed heavily, both in embarrassment at having caught him in such a state, and for the havoc the sight of him unclothed and wet was having on her composure.

She refused to meet his eyes and lowered her head quickly. Had he seen the way she ogled him like some loose woman with no decorum or morals? Was he horrified at her lack of propriety yet again?

"I … I'm sorry, forgive me … I wasn't sure … I thought … ," she gave up trying to speak and simply fled back into her room, her heart racing and her knees weak.

Good Lord, he was gorgeous!

She sat on the bed in an attempt to calm her nerves, taking deep breaths and willing her blazing cheeks to cool, when she heard the door opening and William, clad now in a dark blue dressing gown, entered her room looking concerned and upset.

"Oh Elizabeth, I'm so sorry, I was running late as I needed to go over a few things with Mrs Hamstead and Stephens, my valet, I didn't mean for you to be kept waiting … or to shock you with the sight of me undressed before you were ready," he took her hands gently in his own and kissed then softly.

"You look beautiful though."

His words relaxed her finally and she realized how silly she had acted by upsetting him, "NO, I'm sorry … I was just … startled to see you … so … so much more of you than I have ever seen," she took a deep breath and garnered her courage.

"But … you are beautiful too … all of you," she blushed again, looking at their joined hands, "well … what I saw anyway."

He disengaged their hands and placing his hand under her chin, he gently forced her to look at him. She lost herself then, sinking deep into the dark pools of his eyes which were shining with such intensity she imagined she could feel it all the way to her soul.

"Please don't ever be embarrassed. I am honored and deeply touched that you like my body … I very much hope you will like all of it, as much as I love yours. I want you to eventually feel comfortable with me because I don't want to have to hide behind layers when we are alone together. I want to be close to you," he whispered softly as his finger softly trailed down her

neck and along her shoulder before slowly coming to rest just below her collarbone … hesitating before following the seam of her dressing gown to where it met just scant inches above her breasts.

She had goosebumps along her entire body at his touch and her insides were quivering in anticipation and she raised her face for a kiss … to find him suddenly standing, one hand held out to her.

"Come then," his voice sounded as shaky as she felt, "let us go and eat, you must be starved."

She found herself suddenly miffed, how could he turn her into a melting puddle of goo and then simply stop … to eat? She was preparing to say something along those lines when she noticed … quite hard to miss actually as it was at eye level … that he had quite a prominent protuberance under the front of his dressing gown.

She knew what it was from the few times they had been intimate, but it had always been contained in his breeches, it had never quite … stuck out … like that before, and she realized three things: he was just as affected by the contact as she had been, he was quite a bit larger than she had imagined … and against all her rigorous chastisements about ladylike behavior and propriety and decorum … she wanted to touch it.

Would he want her to? Would he object?

Would he let her see it?

"Elizabeth," he said warily, "I don't like the look in your eye … what are you … aahhh," he jumped back from her as if burned after she had decided to simply grab the bull by the horns … so to speak … and touch him.

"What … what … ," he seemed at a complete loss for word as he faced away from her and seemed to be struggling to control his breathing.

"I was just curious, I'm sorry if I offended you," she said quietly, suddenly realizing that touching him was obviously not proper or ladylike … but he had said … it mattered not, she would follow his lead and make sure she didn't do it again.

"Oh my sweet Elizabeth," he said, half in exasperation, half in affection as he turned back around to face her, his manhood not as obviously prominent as before.

"Do you know what a lucky man I am to have a woman such as you? I love that you are curious and passionate and eager," he had returned to her side and grabbed her hands once more, "I want you to touch me … wherever and whenever you desire," he hesitated to make sure she understood what he was saying, and she felt relief wash through her at his words … he wasn't upset or appalled.

"I am just having a very difficult time trying to … trying to keep in mind that this is your first time. I don't want to frighten you, but the sight of you … you are so very beautiful, and you smell so wonderful … and when I touch you … and when you touched me, I almost … well … it was almost too much. "

His continued somewhat sheepishly, "I am afraid I won't be able to control myself, and I will either expel all over myself like before or will let my passions get the best of me and I don't want to frighten you, I want to make this a pleasurable experience for you as well … do you understand now?"

He seemed so sincere and earnest that she felt herself relaxing. "So its okay if I touch you? You aren't mad?" she asked.

He groaned before offering a small chuckle, "I am not sure I am up to handling you, my little tigress. Yes, you may touch me if that is what you wish … in fact, I would love it, more than I can tell you, but," he looked at her with a mock stern gaze.

"But … not until after we eat," he leaned in and grazed her neck with his moist lips before whispering in her ear, "and not before I get to touch you."

He stood abruptly, throwing her off balance once again, and led her, knees still shaking, towards his sitting room where a light meal had been laid out for their enjoyment. He sat her on the settee and proceeded to pour her a glass of wine and fill a plate with a little bit of everything and handing it to her. He did the same for himself and then joined her, but made sure he wasn't sitting too close.

They finished the meal quickly and without much conversation, but with many, many looks passing between them. She had no idea what she ate … or even _if _she ate, she only knew that the wine seemed to be helping her relax as she observed the way the firelight highlighted the strong planes of William's face, and emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the width of his chest.

She also realized that he had nothing on underneath the dressing gown he was wearing, because when he leaned forward to pour more wine it separated just enough for her to catch a glimpse of a corded thigh … and she almost choked on her wine.

As if sensing where her thoughts were straying, William slowly moved closer to her and began to softly kiss her cheek as he gently unbraided her hair, running his hands through the silky curls and slowly kissing his way towards her ear, which he nipped softly before whispering to her, "Are you finished eating my love?"

She was unable to reply as he continued to place hot kisses along the sensitive column of her neck, and she nodded mutely. She felt him lift her up and knew he was carrying her towards the bed, but as his lips had not stopped their heady progress, she had no time to be nervous.

He stood her on her feet next to the bed and slowly began to untie the ribbons holding her dressing gown closed, the back of his hands just grazing her breasts and causing a responding tightening of her nipples at the contact.

She noticed that his hands were unsteady and his breathing grew increasingly more ragged as he slid the dressing gown off her shoulders to reveal the nightgown beneath.

"So very beautiful," he murmured as he continued to place increasingly hotter kisses on her exposed shoulder and across her collarbone, " you are so very soft, and so very, very beautiful, my Elizabeth," he whispered as his hands removed the final impediment to her nakedness.

Before she knew how it had happened, she was suddenly completely unclothed and despite her innocence, she stood before him, awaiting his reaction. He simply stared at her, his breathing rapid and heavy and she could feel the heat of his gaze as he devoured every inch of her with his eyes.

"You are stunning," he cried hoarsely before enfolding her in his arms and kissing her with a passion that instantly ignited the fire that had been building inside her into a roaring blaze. His tongue parried with hers, both taking all she had to offer and giving all that he was while his hands caressed every inch of her body that was within his reach, as if attempting to brand her with their heat … or stake his claim.

She was desperate to feel his skin against hers and struggled with the tie at his waist, almost shouting in triumph as it finally gave way to her determined hands. She pushed the material from his shoulders and they both gasped as the heat of their bare skin touched for the first time.

Her fingers danced across the swells of his back and shoulders, savoring the feel of his skin, soft yet hard at the same time, enjoying the way his chest hair brushed against her sensitive nipples and the taste of his tongue as it melded with hers.

He continued to devour her, driving any hesitation or nervousness from her mind, as his hands continued their sensuous exploration of her every curve, bump and crevice, but it wasn't until he discovered the plump curves of her bottom and molded her against his hardness that they broke apart … both groaning in pleasure at the incredible sensation.

He stepped away and quickly pulled back the covers and she got a very nice glimpse of his sculpted bottom before he turned and lifted her into his arms and settled her down on the soft mattress. He took a minute to simply look at her again before joining her on the bed, his lips fastening onto one puckered nipple while his hand gently plucked and teased the other into a hard bud.

She could feel her insides turning to liquid as his tongue laved and suckled the hardened peak, her cries sounding overly loud in the stillness of the room, and her hips undulating to a rhythm of their own.

"So soft … so beautiful … ," William whispered hoarsely as he switched breasts, eager to ensure they both received the same amount of attention … and she was in no mind to complain.

His kissed his way back up her neck and his lips found hers once more in a searing kiss that left her breathless and gasping, while his hand made its way across her abdomen and down over her mound before gently dipping into her moist heat. First one finger, then two slowly moved in and out caressing her inner walls and making her body arch up wanting more, her stomach clenched tightly as waves of pleasure rippled through her at the contact.

She nearly wept when his thumb found the nub nestled among her inner lips and stroked it, the waves building into an avalanche of feeling, her breathing rough and uneven, as her insides coiled in preparation of that climb she had made only once before.

Her hands, restless to feel more of him, searched out the hardness of his manhood that was poking insistently into her hip. Tentatively at first, savoring the feel of its silky hardness, and then more boldly as she felt William spasm and groan into her open mouth as she touched him. Unsure exactly how to please him, she was grateful when his hand covered hers and he showed her exactly what he liked, and even though she couldn't quite fit her hand all the way around him, she thrilled at his loud groan as she stroked the length of him.

She suddenly felt her hands being held over her head as William's body partially covered hers and he buried his face into her neck panting heavily. She wondered again if she had done something wrong, but she didn't want him to stop and she squirmed restlessly beneath him, eager for his hands and lips on her again … she was so close to reaching that peak.

"Elizabeth," he groaned, "Please … just, give me a minute," he lifted his head and looked at her, his dark eyes dilated as the full force of his desire hit her. "I am trying to be gentle with you, and if you keep touching me," he shuddered again, "I'm afraid I will take you like a rutting bull."

The idea sounded quite good to her at the moment as her breasts were tight and aching and she could feel the wetness of her arousal pooling between her thighs making them slick with desire. She lifted her hips and tried to make contact with his harness, but he had very inconsiderately made sure it was not touching her, and she groaned in frustration.

"William, I have almost reached that peak you took me to before, and I am aching with need for you to continue touching me, so if you are willing, then so am I," she saw his startled expression at her bold words, "so please … please make me your wife," she begged.

Never a man to want to disappoint his lady love, he gave up the fight and kissed her again not bothering to hide his urgency or his passion as he covered her body completely, and she felt the length of his male organ rubbing gently against her inner lips and caressing her sensitive nub. She arched up against him wanting to increase the delicious contact and groaned in frustration as he continued his slow torture.

Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she reached around and grabbed his buttocks and pulled him closer, almost screaming in triumph when he rubbed her in just the right spot. After a few more seconds of stimulation she felt herself spinning towards the peak again, but William once more stopped, but instead of pulling away he parted her thighs and gently began to enter her.

She felt him begin to fill her heat as he slowly thrust in and out, going deeper on every thrust until she felt him pause and realized he was straining to hold himself in check. His muscles were tense and his face held a fine sheen of sweat.

"This … ," he said tightly, his jaw clenched as if in pain. "this may hurt a bit … I'm sorry," he moaned before he thrust into her fully and she felt a searing pain which caused her to cry out.

He remained still as she grew more accustomed to his size; the pain slowly began to ebb away and she realized she felt quite full … and she felt very, very close to him.

It was an exhilarating feeling.

She noticed that William was panting heavily while still holding himself still, and could have sworn she heard him mutter something about Caroline Bingley … but she knew that couldn't be right.

"Its okay William, it doesn't hurt anymore … it feels very good," she breathed into his ear.

That was all the confirmation he needed, and he began to slowly move in and out once again, and the feeling she had thought merely good escalated into a feeling so intense she wrapped her legs around his back and lifted her hips up to meet his. This encouraged him to pump into her harder and deeper and she could hear him muttering, "So tight and hot … so wet … so good … Oh Elizabeth … my love."

The increased friction created an avalanche of sensations deep inside and she could feel her abdomen tightening as she climbed higher and higher … their hips slapping together noisily as he continued to thrust into her in an even more frenzied pace.

"Oh … Elizabeth … ELIZABETH!" he cried out roughly, his hand sliding between then to stroke the small nub of her womanhood … once … twice … and she was over the top. Her body exploded in a rush of sound and light as warmth filled her and she screamed out his name.

She could feel her insides spasm with the intensity of her release and she felt him thrust into her one final time before shuddering violently and collapsing on top of her, both of them struggling to catch their breath.

He lifted himself up onto his elbows to relieve her of his weight, and she immediately missed the contact. She was enjoying the feel of the warm aftershocks still coursing through her body with him still buried deeply inside of her … she felt connected to him in the most visceral yet deeply spiritual way, and was loathe to relinquish her hold on him.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly after they had both begun to breathe easier. He looked down at her and softly brushed a lock of hair off her face before gently kissing her swollen lips.

"I am quite well actually," she responded dreamily as she kissed him back, still wallowing in the afterglow of such intense pleasure.

"That was … incandescently perfect," she murmured as she kissed him again, using his immobility to her advantage as she rained small kisses along his chin and jawline, slowly working her way up to his neck before sucking on his earlobe … where, she quickly discovered, he was highly sensitive.

She could feel him growing harder inside of her and she gently thrust her hips to show she had noticed, enjoying his groan of pleasure at the movement.

"Woman … are you _trying_ to kill me?" he asked rhetorically before he captured her mouth in a deep kiss.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: For any readers that are still with me after all this time, please let me apologize profusely for the ungodly delay. RL bitch slapped me hard and I just wasn't feeling the love between our two main characters … and somehow Mr. and Mrs. Bennet ended up dead, Charles and Jane were poor and living on the streets of London and Lydia was sleeping with the pigs … not a very Jane Austeny (I know its not a real word) scenario. I have had a chance to regroup some and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint, but its mostly just fluff to get everyone back on the same page.**

**On a side note, one of the major delays is trying to figure out if I want Jane and Charles to end up together … any thoughts?**

Lizzy sat down at her desk to review the correspondence that had gathered while she and William had been away and smiled as memories of the past month filled her with warmth and that familiar heat that seemed to ignite whenever she was around or even thought of her dear husband.

William had finally admitted where they were going after a rather exhausting second round of lovemaking on their wedding night. She had been amazed, and if she were honest, a little nervous, when after a short nap she had awoken to find William making love to her once more … of course she could barely walk the next day she was so sore, but he proved, once again, what a sweet man he was by hand feeding her breakfast as she soaked in a soothing tub of scented water.

After the wedding, they had stayed at Darcy House for three days … barely leaving the master bedroom the entire time … and had departed early on the fourth day for Ireland. William had planned an itinerary to include all of the landmarks he thought she might be interested in seeing, and she was more than happy to follow his lead. It truly didn't matter to her where they went or what they did as long as they were together.

And together they were. Many, many, many times.

Their days were spent exploring the vibrant and lush hills and valleys and rugged coastal beaches, and their nights, and early mornings, and even some afternoons, were spent exploring the sensual landscapes of each others bodies.

She discovered that William was quite ticklish if she kissed or licked behind his knee but became quite amorous if she got anywhere near his ears … something she used to her benefit quite often.

She had also shed any worries she had that William would be disappointed with her … William loved her body … small breasts and all … and he spent a considerable amount of time daily trying to memorize every inch. He could make her blood sizzle simply by his touch alone and scream in a different octave when he kissed and licked her small nub … something she enjoyed thoroughly once she overcame her initial embarrassment at such an intimate act.

He had taken her to heights she had never thought imaginable … again and again.

She _loved_ being William's wife.

And despite what everyone else may think, it had absolutely nothing to do with his social standing, his land holdings, or his bank balance … and absolutely everything to do with the way he loved her.

Very thoroughly and quite often.

But, what was good for the goose, as they say, was good for the gander, and she soon discovered that William became quite vocal when she returned the favor and pleasured his manhood. Thankfully her sweet husband didn't mind that she had no idea what she was doing and agreed to allow her to practice whenever the mood struck.

He was very selfless that way.

Yes, marriage was definitely an eye opening experience, and they had made love in many different positions and in a myriad of locations over the past two months and she couldn't have been happier. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and they were forced to return to London where William had business issues that needed his attention and they wanted to have some time alone at Pemberley before Georgiana came home and Mary and Kitty arrived.

Now they were back at Darcy House trying to wrap things up before departing in a weeks time for Pemberley. William was beyond excited to get her settled in as the new mistress and talked excitedly about all of the places he planned to show her once they got there. She was just as excited as he, as it was very obvious that he missed his ancestral home, but her excitement was tempered by nervousness at her ability to manage such a palatial manor.

William seemed convinced she would be the 'breath of fresh air' that Pemberley needed. She just hoped she didn't disappoint him.

She had sent a note off to Georgiana and Lady Fitzwilliam, inviting them both around for tea the next day and had taken the knocker off the door for one last day of peace before London descended en masse on Darcy House to appraise the 'country chit' who had the nerve to snatch up the eligible Mr. Darcy.

She would have found it amusing if she wasn't absolutely terrified.

She honestly didn't care what most of society thought of her, but she was determined not to shame William. In the eyes of the ton, he had married 'below his station' and she refused to allow a bunch of harpies and old biddies make her feel inferior, not when she, Lizzie Bennet, country born and bred, with no dowry to speak of, had been the one to win the affections of the elusive and much sought after Mr. Darcy.

That knowledge alone would allow her to hold her head high and maintain her poise regardless of what was said in the weeks to come.

She was resolute and determined.

She would make him proud.

At least that's what she kept telling herself.

Needless to say, she had hastened to call on what relatives she could for moral support, and was happy to read her Aunt Gardiner's note confirming that she would be available for tea all week, as well as dinner with the family tomorrow evening. She had greatly missed her aunt and uncle and had lots to share.

She perused the rest of the letters and noticed ones from both Jane, Mrs. Bennet, Mary and surprisingly, Lydia. She hesitated before opening the letters, not sure she even wanted to know what they contained. The last two months without any family squabbles and fights had been blissful, and she was hesitant to breach the peace she and William had found together.

She knew her family too well.

Not that everything between them had been perfect, they were both too set in their ways for that to be the case. There had been a few good rows during their time away. Since they were both extremely passionate people, that had been a given. In hindsight, the disputes had really been over inconsequential things that at the time had seemed much more relevant. Thankfully they had heeded her aunt's advice and forced themselves to calm down enough to talk about what was going on before going to bed angry and upset.

And the making up had been phenomenal.

She suspected that William had picked their last argument simply because he wanted to make up again.

Sweet, sweet William.

She was jolted out of her revere by a pair of warm lips on the back of her neck and a familiar shiver ran down her spine, "Oh Colonel, I have missed you so," she said in a simpering voice before turning around and grinning impishly up at her startled husband.

"Oh … William … I didn't realize you would be home so early … why I … ," she tried to sound nervous and flustered but instead let out a surprised squeal as she was lifted from her seat, carried over to the settee, and strewn across his knees like a recalcitrant schoolgirl.

She was shocked when she felt two swats against her bottom before he gently rubbed the offended appendage. With all the padding her gown provided it hadn't hurt, but she was still deciding if she wanted to be angry about his barbaric treatment when he spoke up.

"So, my dear, being married to me doesn't keep you satisfied enough? Barely back in town a day and you are already planning secret assignations … with my cousin no less … or is there another Colonel I should be made aware of?" he asked in his 'Mr. Darcy' voice she continually teased him about.

He held her down firmly as he lifted her skirts to reveal her bottom, covered only by her thin underclothes. His hand lovingly caressed the plump flesh before administering another playful slap.

"William Darcy," her voice reflecting her growing anger at the very undignified position she was currently in, "let me go this instant you brute, or I shall scream," she struggled to free herself, her ire finally giving way to laughter as he switched from playful smacks to increasingly intrusive caresses along her sensitive, but very ticklish, inner thighs. She knew he would never really hurt her and was secretly pleased by how much he had relaxed around her and was more comfortable with showing affection outside the bedchamber.

"Woman, calm yourself," he mock bellowed in a poor imitation of her father, "or I shall confine you to your room for a fortnight," she suppressed a giggle as his hand continued to caress her bottom. His attentions to her posterior were starting to have the desired affect and she felt her breathing hitch when she felt the definite bulge pushing against her hip.

"Of course," he murmured seductively as he kissed along the sensitive column of her exposed neck, "I will just have to make sure you don't get bored or lonely by keeping you occupied and make sure you are too well satisfied to desire anyone else's company."

His voice got decidedly huskier as his fingers began their familiar journey to her now moist nether regions. Before he could continue, she forced herself to act, albeit reluctantly.

Very reluctantly.

"Good heavens Mr. Darcy, you are insatiable," she cried in exasperation as she righted herself in his lap before kissing his pouting lips, "we left the bedroom not four hours ago. What will the servants think? And we really need to work on your disciplinary skills before we have children, if that sir, is your idea of punishment," she demanded playfully.

"They will think," he growled as he nuzzled her neck again while pulling her more firmly into his lap, "that I am in love with my beautiful and extremely alluring wife … and as far as discipline goes … I can always just hide in my study and let the children work it out amongst themselves … what do you say? It worked wonders on you!"

He attempted to kiss her again, but she was laughing too hard at that point and he gave up good naturedly and waited for her bout of humor to run its course … as it usually did.

She finally gained control of herself and snuggled closer into his broad chest. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company my dear?" she asked, "I was under the distinct impression that you had business to attend to that couldn't wait?"

I did," he said uneasily, all playfulness temporarily forgotten as he let out a breath oozing frustration, "Charles."

"I thought he was off somewhere on a mission to 'find himself?'" she asked in confusion.

"He was. He returned a sennight ago and sent a note around this morning asking to see me at the club," he sighed heavily and hugged her closer to him, "I don't know what to make of him, or his news," he brightened suddenly and she recognized the mischievous glint in his eye, "but he did share some tidbit of gossip that I thought might interest you."

She raised an eyebrow questioningly when she saw the smirk on his face and wondered what had him so animated, William didn't usually concern himself with gossip of any sort unless it involved his family in some way.

"Well?" she asked impatiently, "surely you don't intend to torture me by means of suspense do you?," she smacked him playfully on the chest, but then followed it up with a caress. She loved the feel of his hard chest, and had to reign her suddenly wayward thoughts in before she got distracted.

William was very, very good at distracting her.

As if sensing where her thoughts were heading, he pulled her in for a deep kiss and all thoughts of Charles fled as William's tongue sought hers and she gave herself over to the pure joy of kissing him as the familiar heat began to build between them.

Kissing William was a sublime pleasure that she partook in as often as possible, and now was no exception.

She moaned as his fingers began to gently pull out the pins holding her hair up and shivered as he ran his hands sensuously along her scalp. His strong hands continued their slow journey along her back before settling on her bottom and pulling her more firmly against his hardening erection. She could feel the tension building in her abdomen and the ache in her core that only he could satisfy.

She gathered her skirts together and turned just enough so she could straddle his hips in search of some much needed friction.

They both groaned in pleasure as her heat connected with his hardness and his hands wasted no time cupping her bottom firmly, bringing them even closer. Their kisses quickly became more heated as they began to move together, neither wanting to stop the delicious friction long enough to relocate their activities to the bedchamber.

Elizabeth suddenly felt herself lifted up and placed abruptly on her feet. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could get her befuddled mind to form the words to complain, she felt warm hands deftly removing her undergarments and quickly lifting her up again and resettling her heat onto his engorged manhood.

She was sure their combined groans could be heard outside the door, but as William began to move inside her she found she no longer cared. The delicious feeling of his hardness caressing her inner walls overrode any sense of decorum she possessed at the moment. She squeezed her muscles tighter around him and gripped his shoulders as she matched his movements.

"Sweet, sweet Elizabeth," he moaned as she rocked her hips faster, seeking relief from the spiraling tension building within her.

"You feel so heavenly … so good … so … uuuggnn … ," his words were unintelligible and his eyes were closed but his lips continued to nip at her sensitive lobe, his hot breath sending additional shivers down her spine.

He shifted her slightly so that he was able to thrust more deeply, hitting that spot that always caused her to lose herself quickly.

"William … oh … yes … uuhh … right there … oh uuggnn … ooohhhhhhhhh!" she screamed out incoherently as her mind blurred with her impending release.

William buried his face into her neck and grunted loudly as she reached her pinnacle, her inner walls convulsing tightly against his turgid manhood.

Lizzy's breath stopped as an intense burst of pleasure ripped through her and colors exploded behind her tightly clenched eyes. She could feel him pulse several times inside her, signaling his release. She struggled to find her breath again as she came down from her high.

"UUUUHHHHHHHHH!" he managed to groan as his body shuddered beneath her … neither of them were especially articulate during peak moments of intimacy … not that either one cared.

He laid back against the back of the settee and pulled her closer into his chest as they both tried to regulate their breathing. She allowed the warm lethargy to envelop her and snuggled deeper into William's embrace, savoring the contentment and closeness she always felt after their lovemaking. His tender kiss signified he felt the same.

"I love you, my Elizabeth," he whispered as he hugged her tighter against him. "You made me the happiest man in England when you became my wife, and each day since has only gotten better."

She felt the prickling of tears at his sweet words and turned her face up to meet his eyes. "I am the lucky one William," she spoke quietly, her heart nearly busting with love for this man she called husband, "I am so thankful that you kissed me that day in Rosings Park, I cannot fathom how empty my life would be without you. I love you more than I ever thought possible and I am so happy to be your wife."

Her words triggered another tender kiss, deeper than the last but no less poignant. As the kiss began to deepen they were startled out of their sensual bubble by a sharp knock on the door. Elizabeth struggled up and attempted to right her clothing before approaching the door. She shot William a sharp glare when she heard his soft chuckle at her sudden nervousness.

"Yes?" she called out, hoping the tremor in her voice wasn't obvious through the closed door.

"Ma'am, Mr. Darcy has a visitor in the front parlor. Have you seen him?" the servant asked tentatively, yelling louder than necessary to be heard as the door hadn't been opened as expected.

Elizabeth opened the door in surprise at the news, neither of the Darcy's had been expecting any visitors today. It wasn't until the servant nervously eyed her up and down that she remembered her disheveled appearance. Her hair was down and mussed from William's hands, her gown was wrinkled, her lips were swollen, and her cheeks were bright red. She stood up straighter and in her embarrassed state spoke more sharply than she would have normally, startling the poor girl.

"Did the visitor give you his or her card?" She saw the girl's eyes get bigger and felt William's presence behind her before his comforting hand squeezed her shoulder and she found herself calming down enough to offer a small smile of apology to the flustered servant.

"Y … yes ma'am," she answered before shakily handing over a cream colored card.

Elizabeth thanked the girl more warmly than was probably necessary under the circumstances, but she was embarrassed by her earlier harshness and was trying to make up for it. She had always believed that servants deserved to be treated fairly and firmly, but with kindness and was angry at herself for her abrupt behavior.

The girl blushed at the thanks and curtseyed before quickly departing, anxious no doubt, to share her story with the kitchen staff.

William's household staff were paid well and treated better than most, but his one unbreakable rule was that gossip with anyone outside his home was cause for dismissal without a referral. A rule that had been tested when he found out one of the servants had been paid by Caroline Bingley to keep her informed of his personal food and drink preferences and nightly habits.

No amount of tears had swayed him or his anger as he gathered all the staff to witness her dismissal, and thankfully nothing of that sort had ever occurred again. Some lessons only need to be taught once to make an impression.

Of course, Caroline had denied everything, but somehow his favorite brandy and scotch were always mysteriously available whenever he visited Charles.

William, being the gentleman he is, refrained from pointing out the obvious … he just made it a point to meet with Charles at the club instead of at his residence … which had irritated Caroline tremendously.

He trusted his housekeeper to keep the internal gossip to a minimum, but even he knew that was almost impossible. Lizzy made a note to speak to Mrs. Hamstead later about the incident to make sure things didn't get out of hand.

She turned back around to find herself engulfed within William's strong embrace once again as he hugged her close and whispered in her ear. "You look delectable when you are flustered and freshly pleasured my dear, I think we should have an early dinner in our chambers," he ran his tongue slowly along the slender column of her neck and she shivered in reaction. " … and maybe retire early?"

His hopeful inquiry, in conjunction with the sensations his talented mouth were eliciting upon her over sensitized nerve endings, was wrecking havoc with her better judgment and she felt herself, once more, succumbing to her baser desires.

Desire.

Something she wasn't even aware she possessed until she had met William. Now they were becoming intimately and frequently acquainted.

She couldn't have been happier about it, and from the feel of things … one very hard thing in particular … William felt the same way.

She lost herself in another of his scorching kisses, savoring the heat they generated between them as she pressed herself more fully against his body. It wasn't until she wound her arms around his neck, anxious to bury her hands in his thick hair, that she remembered the calling card of their unexpected visitor that was still clutched tightly in her hand. She reluctantly broke their kiss, much to William's vocal displeasure, and glanced at the name on the card.

Lizzy looked at William in confusion. "I thought you said you met with Charles at the club?"

"I did," he sounded frustrated and she wondered what had transpired that had her husband so irritated. "he is quite distraught at the situation he now finds himself in and needed some advice before things get out of hand."

"Is that why he's here so soon after meeting with you?" she asked, holding up the card so he could clearly see the name embossed on the front. "Were you expecting him?"

William ran his hands along her back and pulled her back into his chest as if to draw comfort from the contact. "I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you and explain everything before meeting with Charles again, but evidently he is more upset and anxious than I realized."

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before reluctantly releasing her. "I suppose I must go and try to calm him down. I'm not sure if he is ready to face you just yet and I'd rather appraise you of the situation myself before you see him. I think he is afraid of what your reaction will be."

He leaned forward and ran both of his hands through her long hair before giving her one more chaste kiss. "I would have explained everything earlier if you hadn't been so distracting when I arrived home," he added with an impish grin.

Lizzy's curiosity was peaked at his revelation, but she knew she would have to wait until Charles left before she would be any wiser as to what was going on. His accusation about her being a distraction, however, she was more than prepared to address. She leaned forward and gently nipped his earlobe before whispering huskily into his ear, knowing full well the effect it would have on her husband.

"As I recall my dear," she smiled to herself when she felt his breathing elevate, "it was _you_ who distracted _me_ from my correspondence …," she sucked on his tender flesh and his groan at her ministrations made her even more eager for his undivided attention … preferable alone and in bed.

" … but as soon as you are finished with Charles, I will be waiting for you in our bedchamber to continue what we started," she gave his ear one last flick with her tongue and stepped deftly away from him before he could grab her and continue what she started.

"Not now dear," she grinned impishly, as she approached the door and opened it quickly before he could react, "you have someone waiting for you." She stepped through the open door but turned around before she got very far, her expression suddenly more serious.

"I love you my husband," she stepped forward and gave him a firm kiss, "Please don't ever forget that. Now go be a good friend." She turned and made her way towards the kitchen to order some refreshments for Charles and William … and brandy …. from the sound of things, they would need brandy instead of tea.

As she approached the kitchen door she heard her husbands soft reply, "I love you too … my Elizabeth … my wife."

She smiled as warmth from his words permeated her entire being.

Yes, life as Mrs. Darcy was indeed good.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Now we find out what is going on with dear Charles and we get some of Darcy's thoughts about Lizzy and marriage in general. Let's not forget the man hasn't had any in over ten years … he's like a 17 year old all over again.**

**I had intended all along for Charles to break off to 'grow up and find himself' and as you will see he has done that. But things haven't gone quite as expected and he is once again looking to Darcy for guidance. I would love to hear which choice you think he should make. I have three possible outcomes.**

**Next chapter we will hear about how the rest of the Bennet's are doing.**

Darcy sighed heavily as he watched his wife's lithe form disappear down the hallway and was torn between his desire to be a friend to someone, that until today, he hadn't spoken to since his wedding day, and his almost overwhelming need to just send Charles home, throw his wife over his shoulder, and carry her off to their bedchamber to ravish her thoroughly and repeatedly.

Two months alone together hadn't even come close to quenching his desire for her … it had merely whet his appetite for more.

God, he loved being married to Elizabeth. It wasn't just his physical reaction to her … although that was beyond intense … it was in everything she did, everything she was.

She suited him perfectly and he loved her more than he ever thought possible.

Even though he knew Charles needed him much more than Elizabeth did right now, and he had just sated his never ending desire for his wife's affections, he still hesitated. Just the thought of the pleasure that could be found within his wife's arms was enough to cause a physical reaction in his body … something that happened remarkably frequently of late whenever he thought about her delectable body and moist heat.

Charles … he must go to Charles.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to imagine Caroline Bingley to help cool his ardor … it worked every time.

First Charles … then his Lizzy.

Lizzy with her long firm legs that he loved to have wrapped around him … hands clenched around her luscious globes … breathy moans and silken walls clenched tightly around his … uugghh!

Caroline Bingley. Caroline Bingley. Mrs Bennet.

Okay, now he was the exact _opposite_ of excited.

Time to meet with Charles. Even though he still felt mildly resentful for Charles' lack of support before his wedding … and after the wedding … he knew he probably deserved it considering his high handedness in he and Jane's relationship.

He entered his study to find Charles looking out the window seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts and used the moment to study his anxious face. Charles had hinted at being involved in a scandal at the club earlier, but he had been sketchy with the details, especially as things had been slightly stilted between them. The ease with which they had always communicated seemed a thing of the past. Neither wanted to address the obvious issues, but there would obviously be a wall between them until they did.

He had attempted to right the wrong he had committed against Charles and Jane and had begged his friend's forgiveness for his part in their separation. Was it wrong that he expected an apology now as well for Charles' behavior? It wasn't about him so much, it was that he and Jane had hurt Elizabeth with their obtuse and at times callous and selfish behavior.

Darcy wondered what was really going on with Charles and how much help he could actually be, and if, after all the water under the bridge, things would ever be the same between them.

Before he could alert Charles to his presence, Mrs. Hamstead arrived with a tray laden with an assortment of fruit and cheese and a large bottle of brandy … his wife's doing no doubt.

Was it any wonder why he loved her? She always seemed to know just what he needed.

He directed her to set the tray on the table and thanked her before closing the door firmly behind her. He poured two glasses of brandy and offered one to his agitated guest. Charles downed the whole thing in one gulp and held his glass out for a refill, which he sipped at a slightly more reasonable pace.

"Thanks Darce," Charles fell into the closest chair looking tired and unsure. "I'm sorry for just showing up here, but I just don't know what to do and its driving me to distraction. You have more experience with these kinds of things than I do so I was hoping you could help me," he looked over at Darcy, his eyes almost frantic, hoping, no doubt, for Darcy to offer a magic solution to fix his current situation as he had always done in the past.

Unfortunately, Darcy wasn't as convinced that he had such solution to offer, especially as he wasn't sure what exactly they were dealing with, but he could listen to the whole story and try to help if he was able. After all, that's what friends did … and he hoped that they could still be friends when all was said and done.

"Why don't you just tell me what's going on … then I'll have a better idea what we are working with," he said in what he hoped was a caring, supportive tone of voice in an attempt to calm his friend's obviously frayed nerves. Charles looked like a skittish colt ready to bolt at the first sign of aggression or censure.

Charles nodded before swallowing the rest of his brandy and helping himself to another generous serving. Charles wasn't usually much of a drinker, but he seemed to need the liquid courage to begin his story. Thankfully, he appeared to be slowing down and only took a small sip before clearing his throat to begin his tale.

Darcy took a sip of his own drink while he waited, trying hard not to let his thoughts drift back to Elizabeth … which was harder said than done. Charles' first words however, erased all thoughts of making love to his wife from his immediate consciousness.

"Darce, I'm sort of engaged to two women," he said, the anguish written all over his features as he mutely watched Darcy's attempt to get his breath back after choking on his drink.

"I know, I know," he said, as he ran his hands agitatedly through his hair, an act, that by the current state of him, he had evidently been doing quite regularly. As Charles was usually very fastidious about his appearance, this, more than anything, revealed the extreme emotional turmoil he was experiencing.

"I just … things are just … ," he paused and looked at Darcy with such a forlorn expression that he knew he would do whatever he could within his power to try and help him. He gently pushed Charles back down into the chair and topped off his drink … he had a feeling they would both need it before this night was through.

"Just start at the beginning and tell me everything … _everything_ Charles," he added more firmly, "I can't help you unless I know exactly what we are dealing with here."

Charles nodded and took a deep breath, his body slumped back against the seat like a puppet that had just had its strings cut. He looked almost … defeated, and Darcy felt a rush of sympathy for his erstwhile friend.

"After you left … you and Elizabeth, I mean … ," he paused and offered Darcy an apologetic look for his role in the disastrous wedding, " … well … things finally calmed down enough so that we could talk civilly. Mr. Bennet made it clear that I had made a promise to his eldest daughter, and as a gentleman, he expected me to honor my word," Charles seemed lost in thought for a moment, as if picturing the scene in his mind. He cleared his throat before continuing his story.

"I tried to speak to Jane alone so that I could find out what her thoughts were, but she didn't seem … she was very upset … ," he seemed at a loss where Jane was concerned, and I remembered her shell shocked expression but hadn't been sure if it was because her mother was acting like a deranged harpy, her father's unexpected harshness, or the fact that Charles was leaving. Maybe it was combination of all three. He had misjudged Jane's feelings once before and had no desire to do so again.

He didn't particularly dislike Jane, but he couldn't honestly say he cared for her much either, especially after how she had hurt his Elizabeth. When all was said and done however, she was still his wife's sister and his friend's future wife … or at least she used to be, so he would set aside his own feelings and try and be supportive.

"Anyway … ," Charles' voice brought him out of his musings, " … Mr. Bennet felt it was best that I just be on my way to let things cool down. He asked me to keep him appraised of my situation and gave me permission to write to Jane as well. So I left. I closed up Netherfield and met with an estate agent in London to look for properties. I found two that interested me, but finally settled on the one in Somerset. It was a better deal and slightly larger … in case … well, for children … ," he seemed lost in thought again.

Darcy gently cleared his throat to remind Charles that he still needed to get the story out and Charles gave an embarrassed cough before continuing.

"The place is smaller than Netherfield, but half again as large as Longbourne. It did need some structural repairs and the tenants hadn't been looked after much at all. The previous owner was old and the overseer unable to … or unwilling to … bother. It actually took quite an outlay of capital to fix the estate and help get the land and the tenant homes repaired enough to attract some new families to replace the ones that left. And hire a new overseer of course," he added the last as almost an afterthought.

Darcy was amazed at how serious Charles sounded. Maybe this break from everything had been good for him after all.

"I had only been there about a week and things were going well when I received a visitor. A wealthy gentleman from a neighboring estate approached and introduced himself. Mr. Emerson Palmer." Charles paused to take another drink, his mouth turned down into a frown as he stared at the amber liquid in distaste. Darcy knew it wasn't the drink that he disliked, so it must have been Mr. Palmer.

"He seemed like an amiable enough gentleman. Very mild mannered and eloquent," Charles paused again, "He invited me to dinner the following night and I readily accepted. Mrs. Palmer was a quiet, soft spoken woman that barely said two words the entire meal, but his daughter Emily, she was quite … effusive. She was a very handsome young woman and I will admit to being flattered by her attentions. She actually reminded me a lot of your Elizabeth."

That revelation surprised Darcy because Charles had always been attracted to the quieter, more serene females like Jane, even though he would be the first to admit that he felt Charles needed a stronger woman by his side, he had never voiced his opinion. He resented when anyone tried telling him what to look for in a woman and he wasn't about to do it with anyone else.

He realized Charles had continued speaking while his mind had wandered.

" … especially the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. I don't know why I didn't tell them I was already engaged that first night at dinner … but to be honest, Jane never even crossed my mind I'm ashamed to admit. It just felt good to feel carefree and happy again after all the stress of the previous months."

Charles seemed to realize what he had said and gave Darcy another apologetic look, "I know I wasn't a very good friend to you Darce, I also know that Elizabeth was treated very poorly that last month and Jane and I did nothing to help ease the situation. I truly am sorry about that," he looked incredibly sheepish as he spoke, "My only defense, and it is not a very good one, is that I was just so happy to have Jane back that I allowed myself to be blinded to what was happening around me. I have since had a lot of time to think about things and … ," his voice faded as he seemed to lose his train of thought.

"Anyway," he continued as if he had never stopped, "Miss Palmer … Emily … was like a breath of fresh air and I enjoyed her company immensely. She is intelligent and well read; not to mention she has a way of looking at the world that I find refreshing. I attended a few assemblies and always made sure to dance with her first … and last … and oftentimes we would meet while she was out on her morning ride and I was out riding around inspecting the grounds, and we would talk for a bit."

He stopped again as if only just now realizing how his actions could be interpreted. "It didn't occur to me at the time that we had been seen together unescorted or that my actions indicated a level of affection that I didn't feel. I was simply enjoying what I thought was a comfortable and easy friendship with my neighbor," he sat forward and buried his face in his hands, his words slightly muffled.

"It didn't register that the whole town was awaiting my proposal to Emily until her father came to see me and demand to know when I was going to make my intentions known," he sat back again and finished off the rest of his brandy before roughly loosening his cravat as if it were choking him.

"When I explained that I was already engaged and simply considered his daughter a friend … well … to say he didn't take it well would be an understatement. He threatened to call me out over smirching his daughter's reputation unless I broke off my previous engagement and married his daughter."

Darcy was speechless. He had spent years avoiding any situation that could possibly give any young lady … or her mother … the impression that he was interested or that could force his hand by exposing him in a compromising position. That was the main reason for his cool demeanor and lack of interest in any female beyond basic politeness at social events.

Now Charles had gotten himself into quite a touchy situation.

"Charles, forgive me but I must ask," he wasn't sure how to phrase his question, but assumed the time for tact was long past. "Do you have feelings for this woman? And what of your feelings for Jane?"

Charles stood again, clearly aggravated. Whether at my query or the situation, I was unsure.

"I still love Jane," he stated emphatically, "I don't love Emily, but I admire many of her qualities," he sounded almost guilty for admitting it, "They are qualities that I have come to realize that I would like my future wife to have … and Jane just does not possess."

Charles took a seat once more, his face as honest and sincere as I had ever seen it. "I'll be honest, while I love Jane, if my hand is forced, I doubt I would mind being married to Emily. The question now is … what do I do? I made promises to Jane in good faith but I don't want to have to give up the estate I have worked so hard to make profitable again … yet there is no possible way I can stay if I refuse to marry Emily."

Darcy was truly stumped. His friend had gotten himself into quite a predicament. Either way he chose, something would be lost. If he chose Jane then he would have to give up his newly acquired estate that Charles seemed to truly love. If he chose Emily, he would lose Jane … and probably never be welcomed into his house again because she was Elizabeth's sister. He doubted his wife would make him end his friendship with Charles, they would just have to meet elsewhere.

"My heart tells me to choose Jane, but my logical mind tells me I'd be better off choosing Emily. How do I decide? Darce? I am open to any words of wisdom at this point," Charles looked towards his friend with a desperately hopeful expression.

Did Charles expect _him_ to make the choice?

Darcy sighed in frustration. No one had been there to make the hard decisions for him when he needed it … he had learned by making mistakes … many mistakes … and then fixing them the best he could. As much as he hated to say it, his friend was now paying the price for his carefree and cavalier attitude towards life. He had always appreciated that Charles was different than him and considered those same traits to be positive attributes to have as they offset his own shy and taciturn nature so well.

Now he wasn't so sure.

Charles seemed to lack the restraint and common sense that balanced out those other qualities … hence the position he now found himself in. From the way Charles had described Emily as being similar to Elizabeth in temperament and personality, Darcy couldn't help but think she would make a much better wife to Charles. He needed someone sensible and strong to offset Charles' inherently carefree nature.

But he also knew that choosing someone because they would be good for you did not necessarily make for a happy marriage.

The question then remained, could Charles fall in love with Emily given half a chance? Or was his heart forever destined to belong to Jane? If the former, then Darcy felt that Emily was the better choice even though he knew it would hurt Jane. However, if Charles felt he could never love Emily, then he should probably sell his estate and break things off with Emily.

Darcy was a strong proponent for following one's heart.

Of course, there was also the small problem of her father calling Charles out if he tried to slight his daughter. Charles was a fairly good shot but hated violence, and Darcy wasn't sure he would even make an honest effort against Mr. Palmer if the situation escalated to that point. Darcy wasn't the least bit concerned about Mr. Bennet's reaction … but Mrs. Bennet … she was another story altogether. Darcy wouldn't put it past her to hunt Charles down and shriek and wail at him until he almost wished for death.

Either way, there was no doubt that Charles had some tough decisions to make and he wasn't sure he could be much help.

What he needed was his wife. She had such a unique way of looking at situations, not to mention an intellect that rivaled any he had ever encountered. He wanted to discuss things with her before giving Charles any advice. This entire situation was too serious to treat lightly.

He also just wanted to hold her again.

He was suddenly feeling extremely blessed to have found such a wonderful woman and he was truly thankful to be done with all that nonsense Charles was currently dealing with.

"Charles, why don't I get you set up in one of the guest rooms. I need some time to process what you have told me and I daresay you could use a good night's sleep. How about I have a dinner tray sent to your room and I will see you at breakfast. Will that be agreeable?"

His friend nodded glumly before standing a bit shakily and following Darcy out the door. When they arrived in the guest room, Darcy turned and addressed his friend again, placing his hand on Charles' shoulder in an attempt to impart some small comfort.

"I'll have my valet get you a change of clothes and set up a bath for you. Dinner will be up in an hour or so, but I suggest you try and put all this out of your mind for the night and get some sleep. Tomorrow we will both have clearer heads and hopefully we can try and make sense of the whole situation."

Charles simply nodded before closing the door and Darcy made a brief stop to give instructions for his guest before heading to his rooms.

He _really, really_ needed his wife.

As he quietly made his way towards the family wing, his thoughts remained on Charles' dilemma and he wondered if Elizabeth would encourage Charles to choose Jane simply because she was her sister, or would she be impartial enough to look at both sides? Was it even fair to ask?

If Charles did choose Emily, what would happen to Jane? Word would eventually get around that she had been jilted and she would either be considered 'on the shelf' or she would become easy pickings for widowers and older men that normally wouldn't have much choice in brides. Of course, the same could now be said for Emily, but at least her family appeared to have money enough to weather the storm if her reputation took a hit.

The other question that he had forgotten to ask, even though it hardly mattered all things considered, was how Emily felt about Charles. Did she even want to marry him, or did she, like Charles, think they were only friends?

Darcy truly didn't envy Charles. He had some hard choices to make and either choice would have severe consequences. No wonder his friend had felt the need to drown himself in brandy.

Darcy, however, felt the need to drown himself in his wife's arms. He just wanted to forget this mess, at least for a little while.

He needed the forgetfulness he could only find when he was making love to Elizabeth.

His Elizabeth.

His life … his love.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I appreciate all the input and have added some more meat to sweeten the pot. Caroline's fate has been decided … I found it fitting.**

**I meant to cover more in this chapter … but those two are insatiable and got sidetracked. Sorry. **

Lizzy carefully stretched her arms above her head in the hope of working out some of the stiffness that had developed from sleeping in one position for so long without inadvertently waking her sleeping husband. The sun was just making its appearance over the horizon; the dim light chasing away the shadows she had been staring into for the past hour.

She carefully turned around and smiled unconsciously at the sight of her beloved William's relaxed posture. Awake, his imposing height and breadth garnered respect and attention wherever he went, but with his stoic features softened in sleep, she could clearly see the playful, loving man she had married; all the stresses and worries released from his broad shoulders as he, for a short time at least, shed the heavy mantle of responsibility he wore like a suit of Armour.

Her William, was without a doubt, a very, very handsome man and she would be forever thankful that he had disregarded her stubborn refusal and spiteful behavior that day at Rosings Park and opened himself up and allowed her to see the real man beneath the proud, overbearing exterior she had become accustomed to.

Her life so far as his wife had been beyond all of her imaginings.

For who could imagine a love such as they shared unless one experienced it?

Even her precious books, which had alluded to the depth and veracity of love in all its many forms, had only barely skimmed the surface of the intensity with which her heart beat for this man beside her. And in all in her wildest imaginings, and she admittedly had a very active imagination, she could have never even begun to guess that such feelings existed … or that she would be privy to such immense joy.

She longed to run her fingers along the sharp planes of his face, but refrained for fear of waking him; the light dusting of course hair that marred his smooth visage only adding to his appeal. It was a secret part of him that no one save she, and his valet, ever saw. While the rest of the world was presented with one of his many masks he donned while in public; only she was entitled to see the real parts of him.

And she adored his real parts.

She blushed hotly when she felt one of her favorite _real_ parts pressed up against her hip.

She still recalled with vivid clarity the first time she had awoken to the feel of his hard member pressed insistently into her backside. It had startled her so much, as yet unused to waking in someone's arms, much less with things poking her in places she had never been poked, and still groggy from too little sleep, she had fallen out of bed in her haste to escape and consequently woken up the owner of the intrusive pokey thing.

Needless to say, once William had assured himself she was well … and had stopped laughing … he had blushingly explained one of the uncontrollable side effects of being male.

He still loved to tease her about that incident … except now she knew what to do when that happened … and he usually wasn't laughing for long.

Lizzy sighed as her mind unwittingly returned to her conversation with William from the night before. She was still upset at that man for even thinking it would be alright to show up here after the things he had done.

She had been shocked at what Charles had revealed, and truthfully, very angry. Allowing him to stay with them, in her mind, would be the same as publicly endorsing his choices, of which neither she nor William, she was very glad to hear, did.

Not. At. All.

As far as she was concerned, Charles had made this mess by himself and he needed to take responsibility for it and stop running to William whenever he felt he was in over his head. If he was man enough to get engaged, own land, and be responsible for tenants, then he was man enough to make his own decisions and consequently his own mistakes.

And to clean up his own messes.

She had been all for sending Charles home regardless of his state of drunkenness, but a cooler head than hers prevailed, and William was able to finally make her see reason. He could stay … one night only … but in the morning he needed to go.

She hadn't had much time to process everything last night before William had distracted her with other, much more pleasurable pursuits, and they had fallen into an exhausted sleep wrapped contentedly in each others arms before either could readdress the issue.

Now in the morning light she was able to think more clearly about what she had learned.

Even though she was still hurt by her sister's behavior, and more than a little angry with her, truth be told, she still would never condone what Charles had done … was doing … to her. Now, not only was he engaged to one woman, but he had made an implied commitment with another. She wasn't sure which situation angered her more.

Jane would be devastated.

Her mother … oh dear Lord, her mother would probably expire from apoplexy once the news reached her.

There would be no peace for Jane after that.

Lizzy had tried over the last two months to come to terms with her feelings regarding Jane, but she was still so conflicted. There was no doubt in her mind that she loved her sister dearly, but for the first time in her life she felt like she was finally _seeing_ her. The Jane she had always idealized, and quite frankly, placed on a pedestal, no longer existed.

That was probably a good thing, as no one could possible live up to that level of perfection. And Jane had fallen of the pedestal … and fallen hard.

Jane's words the night before the wedding had stuck with her these past few months, and while part of her sympathized with her sister … she did, after all, have a point about her mother's high expectations … the larger part of her still felt betrayed that Jane had knowingly thrown her to the wolves, so to speak, just to make herself feel more important and wanted.

Lizzy would have never done that to Jane.

The question that remained was … what now?

She had purposely delayed reading any news from home because she wasn't sure what the letters would contain. Had Jane come to realize how much she had hurt Lizzy and begged for her forgiveness or would the letter be filled with more weak justifications for her actions?

Could she be blamed for wanting to delay finding out?

As for the letters from her mother and Lydia … well, she would get to those … eventually.

Now, however, in light of the current situation with Charles, she knew she would have to read the one from Jane at the very least. She needed to know where her sister's head was at before she could discuss the situation further with William.

She knew he was relieved his friend had finally apologized for his role during the whole wedding debacle, but he had been quite angry himself last night after the news finally sank in about what exactly Charles had done, and she wondered what state their friendship would be in after this situation was resolved.

Until now, she had always liked Charles. As a person, he was outgoing and fun to be around. His easy smile was contagious and while not the smartest man she had ever met, he could speak intelligently on topics of interest to him … as long as Jane wasn't around. As soon as Jane entered the room, however, Charles' conversational skills were quickly reduced to monosyllable answers and enigmatic smiles; seemingly too occupied staring unabashedly at her 'beauty,' and too much in awe of her 'general magnificence,' to make any further attempt at polite conversation.

It was sweet … in a completely superficial and nauseating sort of way.

As a suitor and husband, however, she had many reservations about his compatibility with her sister. In all honesty, Jane needed a strong man to keep her grounded and that she could depend on, and Charles needed a strong woman for exactly the same reason. Together, Jane and Charles would probably bloom brightly, both enthralled in all the glory of new love … until they weren't.

What happened when the blush of new love faded?

What happened when problems on their estate or within the household cropped up?

Jane was the first to wring her hands ineffectually as soon as a problem arose at home, assuming the role as soother and comforter to their mother and younger, excitable sisters instead of dealing with the issue. She knew, based on what William had shared with her, that Charles did the same thing, always looking towards his older sisters or his friend to help him.

Whom then, would handle issues that arose in the Bingley household? The servants? The overseer?

From all she had heard about Emily, Lizzy believed she would be the better choice for Charles under different circumstances. It wasn't that she didn't want her sister to be happy … because she did, very much … but she truly did not believe that Jane would be happy in the long run with Charles.

Of course, Jane was good at burying her head in the sand and seeing the best in any situation, so maybe she would be content.

Unfortunately, what was best for either of them individually was not what mattered anymore. Charles had made a commitment to Jane and he would either see it through or he would face the consequences. She doubted her father would be demanding pistols at dawn, but she knew he would waste no time filing a grievance with her uncle Phillips and demanding some sort of monetary recompense for breaking a verbal agreement.

The question remained though, had Charles made any promises to Emily? She may feel slighted, and there was no doubt in Lizzy's mind that all of Charles' attention had been inappropriate, regardless of whether he was already engaged, if he had no serious intentions towards her. Even Charles, for all his carefree approach to life, had to have realized it wasn't appropriate for the two of them to be out riding alone together, not to mention the message he was sending by dancing every first and last dance with her.

In the country, that was practically an engagement announcement in itself.

Had Charles learned nothing from William?

For all his good natured razzing about William's aloofness and avoidance at social venues, William had _never _led a woman on or made any implied promises by his actions.

She had been angry with William when he first explained what Charles had done. She had been completely flabbergasted that he hadn't called Charles out for his inappropriate and almost rakish behavior. It hadn't taken her long to realize, however, that William _was_ very angry at Charles, he just expressed it differently. She also discovered that aside from his anger, he was disappointed in himself almost as much as Charles and feeling incredible guilt for not being a better friend.

William, being the strong, responsible man that he was, tended to take too much on himself. Which is why, even though it frustrated her that he felt that way, he would always be the better man. She hadn't been able to maintain her anger after that.

For better or worse, she had vowed to be in his corner.

Lizzy felt her head begin to throb as she relentlessly searched for a viable solution to the Charles/Jane/Emily dilemma that would cause the least amount of backlash and pain, but she just continued going around in circles.

Regardless of what he _wanted_ to do … there was really no choice in the matter. He had made a promise, and must therefore see it through. He would have to figure out a way to work out the Emily situation on his own.

She rubbed her temples in an attempt to alleviate some of the tightness building there. She had too much else to worry about today and was determined to not let her anger get away from her again. She decided to put Charles completely from her mind and take a break to pursue a less volatile area of thought.

She smiled in remembrance of the other tidbit William had shared with her last night.

Caroline Bingley … or, as she was now known as … Caroline Martin.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Charles had pieced together the entire story by getting bits and pieces from both sisters, his solicitor, and from meeting with her husband to be prior to the wedding. Unfortunately, Charles hadn't been aware of the true extent of Caroline's misfortune until he met with William at the club and he had supplied the last piece of the puzzle.

Evidently, after Caroline had been banished in disgrace to London and subsequently released from under Charles' protection, she was faced with the cold reality that her life of ease and security was over. To add to her distress, Mr. Hurst had emphatically refused to allow her to live under his roof claiming that Caroline was a bad influence over his wife.

As a result, she was forced to rent rooms until she could locate a suitable property to purchase … which she could not do until she hired a suitable companion to live with her… something else she was hesitant to do as it reeked of 'spinsterhood.' With the realization that Darcy was now forever out of her grasp, she made a last ditch effort to secure a rich husband.

She squeezed, cajoled, and manipulated every acquaintance and friend she had for invitations to any and all social occasions.

For an entire month, she attended every assembly, opera, ball, and card party in search of a suitable husband she could ensnare to enable her to assume her place in the higher circles of London society. In an attempt to improve her chances, she bit her tongue hard and often to refrain from making scathing remarks to the servants when they accidentally bumped into her, or spilled things, and instead offered gracious smiles and soft dismissals. She simpered over every eligible man that drew near and laughed gaily at every insipid and uninspired comment man by any eligible male over the age of twenty.

She also whispered 'confidentially' in the right ears about her desire to marry and her 'substantial dowry.'

Her hard work eventually paid off when she caught the eye of an older gentleman reputed to be worth eight thousand pounds a year. He was slightly shorter than she and a bit on the portly side, but he seemed like a nice enough gentleman and was always well dressed, so she accepted his suit when offered. He took her for carriage rides, walks in the park, and even escorted her to the opera, after which, he proposed to her and she graciously accepted.

They were married in a quiet ceremony a week later and after a three day honeymoon in Brighton, began their journey to the home he now shared with his nephew Robert and his nephew's new wife, Lydia. Evidently, the reputed part of the eight thousand a year was just that … as Caroline soon discovered.

Lizzy could hardly contain her laughter imagining Caroline's reaction when she discovered that her new home was a sheep farm in Scotland, and her new niece was, in fact, the youngest Bennet girl. She imagined Caroline's scream of horror could be heard from London, and frankly, she didn't know whom she felt more sorry for … Caroline, Lydia, or Caroline's husband.

If she was a malicious, vindictive person, she would revel in the fact that her mother would most likely be spending the months leading up to, and immediately following, the birth of her first grandchild with the Martins.

No, Caroline would not be a happy person.

Just imagining a house filled with those three women and a screaming infant, caused laughter to burst out of her before she could suppress it, and soon tears of mirth were flowing from her eyes. It wasn't until she heard a raspy throat being cleared that she was pulled back to her senses, belatedly realizing she had woken her sleeping husband. He was perched on his elbow with one eyebrow arched in that adorable way she loved as he looked askance at her, his eyes questioning.

"Is there a reason you are cackling like a hyena so early in the morning my love," he asked, his voice still rough from sleep.

Lizzy tried to stop, but instead of subduing her, his words had the opposite effect, and she laughed even harder as she tried to articulate what she found so amusing.

"C … Ca … Car … Caroline … ," she was finally able to get out. Thankfully, William knew exactly what she meant and his eyes crinkled in amusement and he smiled one of his beautiful smiles, his eyes glowing.

"I would truly like to feel sorry for her, but I can't help but feel she is getting exactly what she deserves for being so horrid for so long," he added truthfully, "It honestly took every bit of self-control I had yesterday not to laugh when Charles was sharing the story with me."

He gathered his wife closer against his hard chest, the proximity to such a glorious male specimen finally succeeding in quelling her humor as her mind quickly switched tracks and wandered to much more pleasurable pursuits than discussing Caroline or Charles.

Her husband, however, hadn't quite made the switch yet.

She would just have to help him along a bit.

"The sad thing is that Charles truly feels bad for her and blames himself for the predicament Caroline now finds herself in, especially after I explained how I knew Robert Martin. I didn't have the heart to tell him she brought it all on herself. In fact, he … "

William stopped abruptly and caught his breath when he felt his wife's soft hands moving down his body towards his newly reawakened manhood.

Further discussion would have to wait.

Lizzy had quickly discovered that she could render William speechless when she paid special attention to his manhood, and being a naturally curious person, she spent numerous hours over the last two months exploiting these reactions … in depth … and savoring each one. With this in mind, and feeling slightly guilty for being the one to wake him, she wanted nothing more than to make him feel good.

He stopped breathing when he realized what she was about to do and moaned as her warm hands made contact. She had become a lot bolder when it came to initiating their lovemaking, especially once her initial shyness wore off and she realized how much William loved it when she did.

Hearing William's breathy moans as she ran her hands along his shaft never failed to excite her, which in turn, made her more eager to please him, she, therefore, tightened her grip and stroked him more firmly.

She loved the feel of him … steel covered in silk.

"Eliz … Eliza … Elizabeth … uunngg … that's … so good," William writhed on the bed, his hips lifting as she stroked harder and faster. She loved that she could make him feel so good, and after the first few times had finally seemed to get the hang of it … but practice still makes perfect.

And she sooooo loved to practice.

Just when she thought he was nearing his release, he grabbed both of her wrists firmly in one of his large hands and swiftly flipped her on her back, arms raised over her head, as he hovered just above her. She could feel his hot breath on her face and his hardness pressing insistently into her hip as his lips lightly grazed hers.

She moved in for a deeper kiss, but he was in a playful mood and continued to move just out of reach, denying her the close contact she craved.

"I think, my love," he almost purred as he kissed along her jawline up towards her ear, "that if you continue doing that, I won't get to make love to my delectable wife."

He licked along the delicate shell of her ear causing shivers to erupt along her spine, "and I really … ," he continued to trail hot, open mouthed kisses down her neck and she arched her back in response.

" … really want to be inside of you." she felt his whispered words ghosting along her skin.

He sucked gently on the sensitive skin at the juncture between her neck and shoulder while his free hand burned a trail from her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts, over her quivering stomach, and around her hips and outer thigh, until he finally reached her knee. He grasped her leg firmly and pulled it up over his hip and settled himself in the cleft between her supple thighs, skillfully rubbing his erection along her moist folds.

She knew there were benefits to sleeping in the nude.

She moaned as she struggled against his hold, hips raised in search of more friction, anxious to feel him fill her completely.

"William," she almost whined, "please …. ," she begged, as the head of his manhood rubbed an especially sensitive spot. She wanted him … no, she _needed_ him, so badly … but he loved teasing her, especially when she got him worked up first.

She spread her legs even wider and arched her hips just as he was on the down stroke … they both moaned loudly as he slid into her heat. She loved the feeling of fullness when he was inside of her, she felt connected to him in such a visceral way, bonded through their bodies but somehow connected through their souls.

She loved the way he stroked along her sensitive inner walls, always managing to find just that spot that pushed her over the edge of oblivion. His thrusts deepened as he got closer and closer to his own pinnacle, his whispered words almost unintelligible, but their meaning clear.

She had heard them many times before … he loved her … he adored her … she was beautiful … he ached for her …

… she was his.

And he was all hers.

She could feel him getting even harder and knew he was close. She squeezed her inner muscles as hard as she could to increase the friction, gasping when his talented fingers reached for her engorged nub to push her over the top as well.

Her mind suddenly went blank as her body tightened and she spiraled out of control. Warmth and colors blossomed from her core outwards and she shuddered as aftershocks of pleasure assaulted her from all sides. Afloat in a sea of bliss, she felt completely boneless, her limbs weightless yet impossibly heavy at the same time.

Awareness slowly returned as William joined her.

"UUUhhhhhhhhhh …. ELIZABETH … !" William moaned loudly, his body shuddering as he pulsed with his own release.

He rolled his weight off of her, but immediately pulled her close into his side to maintain the connection. Neither felt the need to break the comfortable silence, both just content to savor the feel of being wrapped around each other in their own little bubble. Too soon they would be forced to play their parts, but for now all was right with the world.

Lizzy sighed as she realized that half of London would most likely be traipsing through her sitting room today … the female half. She would be on display all morning; her every gesture, word and expression critiqued and judged to determine if the new Mrs. Darcy would be openly welcomed and accepted amongst the cream of society or whether she be quietly and discretely shunned as the ill mannered country hick she was rumored to be.

Thanks to Caroline Bingley no doubt.

She smiled again as she imagined Caroline in an apron and muddy boots feeding chickens and kneading bread.

She felt much better after that.

She knew it truly didn't matter to her if she was accepted or not. Her position as William's wife, and most importantly, her acceptance by Lady and Lord Fitzwilliam, would ensure her place in the first circles either way. The key was whether she was there by default or on her own merit … that would make all the difference.

Or so she had been told.

She honestly couldn't give too figs about whom liked her and whom didn't, but as it would affect not only Georgiana during her 'coming out,' but any future children they had, she would try her hardest to make a favorable impression.

She really couldn't wait to leave for Pemberley in two days.

"As much as I would love nothing more than to spend the day in bed with you my love," William kissed her sweetly to soften his words, "we both have things to attend to today."

He smiled when she gave a theatrical sigh, knowing quite well what she was concerned about. He had tried to soothe her fears but knew she would be tense until the day was over. He lifted her chin up so that she would meet his eyes and be able to see the sincerity of his words.

"You know I love you Elizabeth. I am very proud to have you as my wife," he kissed her again when she started to speak, "Sshh," he added quietly, "Remember, both my aunt and yours will be here to help you navigate the shark infested waters … as you have so appropriately named the ladies of the ton … and I admit to agreeing with you … _none_ of those women interested me in the slightest, which is why _none_ of them are Mrs. Darcy."

He kissed her more deeply before pulling away to rest his forehead against hers and looking deeply into her eyes. "No matter how awful they are to you just remember that _you_ are my wife … I love _only you … _and at the end of the day, will eagerly and enthusiastically make love to _you_," He kissed her again.

"Always you."

She felt her eyes well up with tears as a swell of emotion filled her. This man had the ability to make her feel _so_ much that she almost drowned in the intensity of it. Never in her wildest dreams would she have ever imagined a man so wonderful, And while certainly not perfect, he was, without question, perfect _for her._

"They don't matter at all Elizabeth … please know that. _You_ are everything."

She was so overcome she couldn't speak, instead she poured all of the love and appreciation she was feeling into the kiss she gave him, a kiss he eagerly accepted and returned in equal measures. Before long however, they knew their time alone was at an end and they needed to get up and get ready to face the day ahead. He to deal with Charles, and she, the ladies.

She slipped on her dressing gown and gave him one last hug before heading to her room to bathe. "What will you tell Charles?" she asked, knowing he was dreading the upcoming discussion with his friend.

"I don't know. I will try and temper my anger, but he needs to know that he has to make this right, and ensure he realizes the possible repercussions of each choice. I can't be his father or his keeper any longer … as much as he may want me to … and frankly, I'm not sure I can even be his friend any longer. The Charles I thought I knew would have never toyed with a woman's affections as he has done," she saw the fleeting sadness and regret that flashed in his eyes, until they hardened once more into determination. "Either way, I will make sure he is gone before my aunt arrives."

He gave her a searching look.

"What about you Elizabeth? What will you do if he _doesn't_ choose Jane?"

Lizzy paused to consider his words. She had asked herself the same question and still wasn't sure of her answer. Jane was her sister, and now, because of Caroline, Charles was attached to her family through Lydia. She knew where her loyalties _should_ lie … but she wouldn't fool herself about where they truly _did_ lie.

"William, _you_ are my family now. My loyalty, regardless of what happens, will always be to _you, _everything else we will deal with as it comes. Just as long as we do it together. If he slights Jane, however, he will never be welcome in my presence again, please make sure he is aware of that William," she added more forcefully, her good mood ruined once more.

She gave him a weak smile and continued through the door knowing she was now running late and she had hoped to get to her letters from yesterday before her aunt arrived. No doubt her aunt had her own bit of news to impart, and she wanted to be prepared.

The day had barely begun and she was already eagerly looking forward to its end.

An end where she would, once again, be wrapped up in William's arms.

That thought brought forth a much larger smile and even added a bit of a skip in her step.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: We are getting to the homestretch now. Only a few more chapters to go.**

**I am fine tuning the next chapter, but it deals with the Charles situation so I want to get it right. ****This chapter contains all the letters Lizzy received, so we get some insight into how the Bennets are faring. **

Lizzy looked out the window of her study, relieved beyond measure that calling hours were over. She was stiff from sitting too many hours in one position, and her jaw muscles, which had alternated between false smiles and tightly clenched teeth more times than she cared to admit, ached.

Had every woman living in London between the ages of sixteen and thirty been after her husband?

It definitely seemed that way.

And it had been subtly … and in some cases, not so subtly … pointed out to her too many times to count today.

Thankfully, the women of Darcy House had their game faces on and had been ready for battle … figuratively speaking, of course.

William's aunt had arrived within minutes of her joining William for breakfast … thankfully Charles hadn't made an appearance … and proceeded to outline the plan of attack. It didn't take long for William to begin to fidget uncomfortably; his aunt's talk of battle plans in relation to tea with the ladies of the Ton disturbed him tremendously and she could see the indecision displayed clearly across his face. It wasn't until he voiced his concern about subjecting his wife to the whole 'ridiculous circus,' that Lady Fitzwilliam finally shooed him out of the room, ensuring him that 'Elizabeth would be in good hands.'

His lingering kiss had gone a long way towards calming her ragged nerves despite the insistent throat clearing from across the table. William finally got the hint and left, but not before calmly informing his aunt that 'in his house he would kiss his wife if he so desired, regardless of whom was around,' before giving her one more sweet kiss simply to emphasize his words. He promised to join her once he was done with Charles, despite his aunt's insistence that it 'just wasn't done.'

She loved protective William.

Was it wrong that she wanted to drag him back to bed after that?

Lady Fitzwilliam sighed heavily at her dreamy expression after William finally left, but Lizzy noticed that her soft expression belied her actions. It was obvious she was pleased to see William happy.

That made Lizzy like her just a little bit more.

Her Aunt Gardiner arrived just as they were finishing up breakfast, not that she had much of an appetite considering what she was facing, but she was thrilled to see her favorite aunt again, and very pleased to discover an almost instant connection between the two women despite the differences in their socioeconomic status.

Their first meeting had been a disaster because of Fanny Bennet, whereas now they were able to relax and they soon discovered a shared love of Opera, lemon cake, and all things French.

Lizzy was very pleased with that development as it would make future family dinners much more enjoyable.

Especially as she had no intention of inviting the Bennets … ever!

Finally, the general (Lady Fitzwilliam), her second in command (Aunt Gardiner), and herself … she was just a lowly foot soldier … had all been thoroughly briefed on the days strategy. At least, she was pretty sure she knew what she was doing … she had kinda zoned out for a bit when the discussion shifted to Lady Whimple and her large hairy mole; her mind much more pleasantly occupied remembering the amazing lovemaking from that morning.

She loved waking up to a naked and eager William.

She loved a naked and eager William pretty much anytime.

Was there enough time for her to sneak off and find him for a quick … word … or two?

Her attention had been abruptly brought back to the breakfast table to find her two aunts laughing at her faraway expression and speculating wildly about what might have caused it … the vivid blush on Lizzy's cheeks probably gave them both a very clear idea about where her mind had wandered off to.

She had forced herself to focus after that, and they soon got back down to business. It was decided that as each new caller was announced, and prior to being shown into the room, Lady Fitzwilliam would share whatever information she possessed about each woman. Darcy's aunt believed in being well armed when going into combat … Lizzy tried hard to suppress a giggle every time that analogy was mentioned … and evidently, had more than her fair share of dirt on the esteemed ladies of the Ton, and wasn't afraid to use it should someone get out of line.

For which Lizzy was extremely grateful. Lady Fitzwilliam, while usually extremely hard to impress and fiercely protective of her family, seemed to have readily accepted Lizzy's place in William's life, so she now fell under that protection as well.

It was quite a nice feeling actually.

Despite everything, she was quite proud of herself for the restraint she had shown to the pit vipers, cunningly disguised as genteel ladies, that had graced her sitting room that day. In some cases, it was only the secret tidbits of scandalous information that Lady Fitzwilliam had whispered in her ear about her most recent guest that had enabled her to keep the polite, if strained, smile on her face for the duration of their call.

Knowing that Mrs. Spencer had once been caught in the pantry with Mr. Jackson, her brother-in-law, had kept Lizzy from feeling slighted each time it was mentioned how 'pleased she must be at her improved situation,' while the woman looked pointedly around at the richly appointed room.

Hearing that Miss. Stenson had not one, but two, broken engagements enabled her to smile brightly when she inquired after William … for the fourth time.

She was even able to maintain a politely civil tone after Miss Frasier's implication that William had dropped hints of being interested in her and would have most likely made his intentions known had he not fallen prey to 'whatever was in the country air' in Meryton … although that was a close call.

She may have growled a bit.

Thankfully, Lady Fitzwilliam had deftly come to her rescue by inquiring after Miss Frasier's older sister that had apparently run off and married an artist the month prior and was seen sporting a suspiciously large bump.

Miss Frasier suddenly remembered a prior engagement she was late for, and was forced to cut her visit short.

She was not missed.

All in all, Lizzy was quite proud of herself. She had kept her poise intact and her scathing comments to herself … for the most part; the angry crescent shaped marks in her palms where her nails had dug in, were just a small price to pay for her dignity.

She had even managed to smile convincingly at most of the guests, especially when she finally met Lady Whimple and her amazing mole … which was quite large, and very distracting, if she were being honest.

The sad thing was, that despite the mole, she enjoyed her too short visit with Lady Whimple the most. The woman was in her sixties, a rich widow with nothing to prove, and a love of the ridiculous. She had a rapacious wit when it came to the women of the ton, but was startling open about pretty much everything else, and wasn't afraid to speak her mind.

Lady Fitzwilliam seemed slightly wary of her, but Lizzy adored her and it seemed the sentiment was returned.

She had made her first friend and another very strong ally.

It wasn't until the last visitor of the day arrived that Lizzy finally lost her tightly held composure.

Mrs. Johnson was an extremely handsome woman that had apparently been widowed young. Evidently, her husband loved to gamble and wasn't adverse to using whatever means was at his disposal to win … fair or not. Someone had obviously taken offense at his methods, as his body was found one night in the alley outside his favorite club; pockets empty and a knife in his chest.

She was left very well provided for and it was rumored that she had taken lovers to fill her husbands absence.

The problem with Mrs, Johnson, as Lizzy saw it, wasn't her simperingly sweet voice, her vapid manner, her sly looks, or even the surprising amount of cleavage on display; no, her main problem was her thinly veiled insinuations.

Almost immediately upon meeting Lizzy, Mrs. Johnson began to drop subtle hints about William … 'I wore this dress because he always seemed to like it' … 'don't you just love how he squints his brows when he's worried or upset?' … 'he is such a strong and capable man, don't you agree?' … 'this was always his favorite scent, do you like it?'

Lady Fitzwilliam, sensing Lizzy's growing distress, made numerous efforts to steer the conversation towards more neutral topics, but it was very apparent that the only topic of conversation she was interested in pursuing was William.

What Lizzy struggled with, was either she _had been_ involved with William at some point … or … she wanted Lizzy to _think_ she had been involved with William. Neither option sat well with her.

Because William was hers now, and she could not … would not … share.

Ever!

The final straw came when Mrs. Johnson leaned towards Lizzy, her abundant bosom perilously close to escaping the confines of her gown, before simpering innocently, 'William was always very, very appreciative of my bountiful … wit,' while glancing pointedly at Lizzy's decolletage.

Lizzy was livid.

She wanted to rip that brazen hussy's hair out by the roots, then drag her from the house by her 'bountiful bosom' and see if she bounced as she was thrown down the front stairs. How dare she imply William preferred her much larger breasts.

William was much too smart to involve himself with such a brainless, self-absorbed creature … wasn't he?

Lizzy was usually a very self-assured person, so the sudden feelings of insecurity and jealousy that assaulted her made her very uneasy. She knew William loved her, and only her, and she hated that woman for making her doubt that for even a second.

In her anger, Lizzy hadn't realized she was standing threateningly over the slattern with her fists tightly clenched ready to physically throw the woman out of _her_ house, until she heard the door open and looked up to see William enter the room. The look on his face matched those worn by both aunts as he took in the scene before him.

He barely spared a glance for anyone else as he rushed to her side and took her in his arms demanding to know what was going on. His surprise … and disgust … when she relayed what the … _woman_ … was implying, was genuine, and went a long way towards soothing her myriad emotions.

William made it very clear, his voice cold and determined, that he had never been, nor would ever be, on intimate terms with Mrs. Johnson or any other woman save his wife. He also made it very clear that she was no longer welcomed in his home, and should she see fit to spread any more of her malicious delusions, he, along with Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam, would make sure that she was never received in polite society again.

Then he rounded on Lizzy, gathered her tightly into his arms, and kissed her until her legs felt weak.

Good Lord that man could kiss.

When she finally came out of her lust induced haze, the room had cleared and she and William were alone. Apparently, both Lady Fitzwilliam and Aunt Gardner had felt she needed some time to cool down after Mrs. Johnson's visit and had departed. They would both be back later with the rest of the family for dinner.

William had wasted no time appraising her of his very limited interactions with Mrs. Johnson. 'Yes,' the woman had hinted at wanting a 'closer relationship' a time or two, but 'no,' he had never been even remotely tempted; William had despised Mr. Johnson, and his widow was too much like her late husband to interest William at all.

He then proceeded to lock the door and remove absolutely any doubts about his affections from her mind. It was _she_ he lusted after. S_he_, whose breasts he adored above all others, and _she_, whose heat he loved to be buried inside.

He made his point very succinctly … twice.

Unfortunately, he had to depart for a short while on an errand, but promised to be back in plenty of time to dress before their guests arrived for dinner.

In her study, a room William had very thoughtfully redecorated for her in varying shades of green to remind her of her love of the outdoors. She loved it, and she loved him even more for making such an effort to make her feel comfortable.

She was savoring the peace and quiet after the day she had had, and would have rather enjoyed spending some quiet time with William, but he wouldn't be back for at least another hour.

Besides, as much as she tried to deny it, she knew it was time.

She couldn't put off reading the letters any longer.

Lizzy reluctantly sat down at her desk and pulled out the letter from Jane. The familiar handwriting, once so dear to her, now caused mixed emotions. She was hesitant to open it, but knew it was better to just get it over with. She needed to know if her sister had any idea about Charles' duplicity.

**_My Dearest Lizzy,_**

**_I hope I can still call you that, as you remain my dearest sister even after all that has transpired between us. I know we both said things that were unkind, but I have forgiven you and I hope you can do the same._**

**_I trust you are well and that married life agrees with you. Please give my regards to Mr. Darcy._**

**_Things haven't been the same since you left Lizzy. Papa stays in his library most of the time and mama and I are still making wedding arrangements, although with Mr. Bingley gone, mama seems less enthusiastic about it, but I am eagerly counting down the days until he is back and we can finally be wed. _**

**_I miss him so._**

**_Lydia writes quite often. She doesn't seem to enjoy country life in Scotland as much as she thought. Mr. Martin seemed an amiable enough man when he visited, and seemed to treat Lydia well. The wedding was very small and simple, much to Lydia's dismay, but papa put his foot down and refused to budge. _**

**_I think he was afraid the neighbors might question the necessity of such a rushed marriage, but I really don't think anyone noticed. I felt for poor Lydia for not getting her dream wedding, but she did look lovely all the same._**

**_Mr. Martin decided to leave just after the wedding. Neither Lydia or mama were pleased with about that, but he was quite resolute. They were supposed to have stayed another week, but I suspect he was just anxious to get home with his new wife. He wasn't very talkative while he was here, so maybe he is just shy. Mama tried to encourage him to stay longer, but he was adamant that they had to leave despite mama's and Lydia's numerous pleas for him to change his mind._**

**_I almost felt sorry for the poor man, but Mama meant well. She really misses Lydia, and you as well, I suspect._**

**_We received a letter from Lydia just a few days ago informing us that Miss Bingley, well, Mrs. Martin now, lives with her. I imagine you have already heard the news about her marriage to Lydia's new uncle. I think it will be a wonderful opportunity for Lydia to have such an accomplished woman like Caroline around. Maybe she will serve as an example for Lydia to emulate._**

**_I know how you feel about Caroline Lizzy, but she really is not a bad person, I just think you and she got off on a bad foot. I'm sure if you just gave her a chance you would realize she is a wonderful person. Besides, she will soon be my sister-in-law, and I hope you will stop this silliness and make an effort to be civil. For my sake at least, if for no other reason._**

**_I told Lydia the same thing when last I wrote. She is like you in that she is determined to dislike Caroline without even giving her a chance. It must be very hard on Caroline to not only be away from her family, but to have to leave London society behind as well. I hope they will get the opportunity to attend a few assemblies, I'm sure that will raise both of their spirits._**

**_Mama will be leaving shortly after my wedding to stay with Lydia for her confinement period, even though Mr. Martin seems strangely resistant to the idea. He must not realize how much it hurt mama's feelings when he sent a letter to papa telling him she didn't have to come since Caroline was there to assist. _**

**_Mama refused to even consider not going, and thankfully papa agreed with her. I'm sure once mama is there, Mr. Martin will be happy to have her to ease Lydia's fears and calm her down._**

**_Originally Lydia begged to come home to stay until after the baby was born, and mama was all for the idea, but papa refused to allow it. I think he is too used to the quiet. _**

**_Enough about Lydia._**

**_Mary and Kitty both talk nonstop about going to Pemberley and then on to school, it is becoming quite tedious in all honesty, and both myself and mama look forward to the peace and quiet their departure will bring. I will miss them both dreadfully, but am glad you will get to see them soon. Mama wanted to travel with them to Pemberley, but papa said that was not possible, then grumbled something unintelligible before leaving the room. I think he may have been hurt because he hadn't been invited._**

**_Don't you think it is time you end this argument with papa?_**

**_I really think its time you and papa got over whatever is going on between you. Lizzy, you only have one father and he loves you and misses you so much. Won't you please write to him?Mama is still hurt by what she calls 'your highhandedness' at your wedding breakfast, but I suspect she just misses you as well, and all would be forgotten if you simply made an effort._**

**_We were all quite surprised that you haven't written yet. We were hoping to receive regular news about the places you visited on your honeymoon, but instead had to hear about it from Aunt Gardner, whom you apparently wrote to quite often. _**

**_She mentioned all of the places you had visited, but she didn't give many details about what you did for two whole months. I imagine you were quite ready to come back, as even you Lizzy, can only walk so much, and I doubt there was much else to do in some of the places you visited._**

**_I won't pretend that having to get news about you from someone else didn't hurt, because it did. I had hoped you would have had time to cool down while you were gone so we could resume our close relationship. _**

**_I have missed you, but I really need your assistance._**

**_Lizzy, I have been growing increasingly distraught and pray you can help. _**

**_I beg of you to please speak to Mr. Darcy on my behalf and ask him to inquire about Charles' welfare. Neither papa or I have heard any news from him in over six weeks and I am very worried for his safety. He has no one there to look out for him, and if something were to happen, he would be all alone._**

**_I worry daily, and beg you to please help ease my suffering and write with news as soon as you have it. I have no doubt that were he able, he would have written, therefore I know something must be dreadfully wrong._**

**_I eagerly await your reply._**

**_Love, Jane_**

Lizzy dropped the letter, her mind saddened by what she had just read.

Jane hadn't changed at all, that much was glaringly obvious from the letter. She still chose to ignore what was right in front of her and instead chose to believe the world was a shiny, happy place where everyone was just supposed to magically get along.

Why had it taken her so long to see the real Jane?

The more she thought on it, she came to the startling realization that she had been just as guilty as Jane for seeing what she wanted instead of what was really there.

She had misjudged both Jane and her father, choosing to see what she wanted to instead of what was now glaringly obvious. And she had underestimated both Mary and Kitty. Maybe if she had been a better sister, been more involved with them and less with Jane, they could have been closer and neither would have felt the need to act out just to be seen and heard.

The thought slightly sickened her.

She couldn't change what had already transpired, but she was determined to make better choices in the future. She would do all she could for Mary and Kitty, regardless of whether her mother, father, or even Jane, thought it fair.

And what did her sister _think_ kept her so occupied on her honeymoon? Was her sister really that sheltered that she didn't realize what she and William had been so busy doing?

She almost felt sorry for Charles.

Knowing they weren't going to go away, she decided to read her mother and sisters' letters. The one from Mary was predictably short. Mary wasn't very verbose.

**_Dear Lizzy,_**

**_Hope you are well. Aunt Gardiner has written and told us about your trip. It sounded very nice._**

**_Things here have been tense since you left. Lydia writes all the time to complain to mama about her life. I realize it is not very Christian of me to feel this way … but it serves her right!_**

**_Kitty and I are very excited about coming to Pemberley and starting school. Papa had some warmer dresses made for us even though mama made a huge fuss about the expense. Papa finally told her your Mr. Darcy had left money for us to have them made, as we would need them for school._**

**_Thank you, and please thank Mr. Darcy for his generosity._**

**_Mama is angry, but then, mama is always angry these days. Papa won't let Lydia come back home and stay with us, and he refuses to let mama send one of our servants to help her 'poor Lydia.'_**

**_Jane is upset, even though she tries to hide it. I don't think Mr. Bingley has written in quite a while._**

**_I hope you are well. Look forward to seeing you soon._**

**_Your loving sister,_**

**_Mary_**

Lizzy smiled and refolded the letter. She would have to make sure to double check that they had everything they needed. She didn't trust her mother to have done the job properly.

Next, she opened her mother's letter in the hopes that it would contain less whining than Lydia's. She doubted it, but it was worth a try.

**_Elizabeth,_**

**_Since you have not bothered yourself to write and inquire after your family, I have decided to do it for you._**

**_Poor Lydia is miserable in that dreadful excuse for a home your Mr. Darcy arranged for her. Don't think I don't see what is going on. He was always jealous of George and has done his best to make Lydia suffer for it. _**

**_Just because he has money, does not make him always right. Goodness knows, he wasted no time flaunting his money and influence around before the wedding. Your father and I agree that he was trying to insinuate that we are beneath him, as he made no effort to get along while he was here._**

**_By now you have probably developed the same airs as him, just like Lydia suspected you would. Too good to write, flouncing out of here in a huff after all the trouble I went to for your wedding._**

**_You are still, as you have always been, a singularly ungrateful and trying child._**

**_Now all Mary and Kitty do is go on and on about going to that school, and about getting new dresses. You'd think we never bought them anything. _**

**_They are just as ungrateful as you, and not one of you has any sympathy for my poor nerves. _**

**_Your father never comes out of his study, and I am stuck doing all the planning for Jane's wedding myself. All the while, poor Jane is pining for Mr. Bingley. Why he felt he had to go off and do whatever it is he is doing and leaving my poor Jane here all alone and heartbroken is beyond me._**

**_I hope he is happy now. I hope you are happy now Missy, making your sister miserable _**

**_I know Mr. Darcy had something to do with that as well. He probably used his influence to make Charles leave … just like he did before._**

**_Oh yes, I know all about how your precious Mr. Darcy separated Jane and Charles. She told me everything. _**

**_I expect you to make amends to both your sisters, as well as your father and I, for the mess you and your husband helped create. You can start by arranging to have that same dressmaker come back and outfit Jane for her trousseau and wedding clothes. If she was good enough for you, then she will be more than good enough for Jane._**

**_And your Mr. Darcy better not skimp on her._**

**_I also expect an apology for the abhorrent way you spoke to your father and I upon your departure, and I expect it soon if you ever want to be welcomed in this house again. _**

**_Your mother_**

Lizzy wanted to scream in frustration at her mother. When would it ever end? Would she ever do anything to satisfy that woman? How could she possibly blame William for Lydia and Jane's situation? Evidently, deluding oneself must run in the family.

Deciding to just end her suffering in one fail swoop, she opened the final letter.

**_Lizzy,_**

**_I'm not sure if you have heard or not, but papa has forbidden me from coming home to have my baby … I am stuck in the backwoods of Hades, expected to give birth on a sheep farm. A smelly, dirty, noisy, disgusting, sheep farm._**

**_With real, actual sheep! And chickens and a cow._**

**_Have you ever seen actual sheep Lizzy? They are smelly, noisy, dirty and disgusting, and I refuse to bring George's child into the world in this place. Lizzy, I have to clean, and do laundry and feed animals and pick vegetables and I haven't bathed in over a week because I have to get my own bath … I hate this place! _**

**_You have got to get me out of here. I have begged mama and papa to let me come back home, but mama says papa won't allow it. _**

**_And now that cow Caroline Bingley lives here, and it is just too much._**

**_She thinks she can boss me around. She treats me like I'm her servant and expects me to wait on her while she sits back and does whatever it is she does. But I told Miss Priss that I wasn't there to cater to her … and I may have slapped her once … or twice … when she started to badmouth my precious George. _**

**_Her falling into that pile of sheep manure was NOT my fault, despite what she may tell you._**

**_I HATE HER!_**

**_Lizzy, we only have ONE servant and she is stuck in the kitchen doing the cooking and most of the cleaning. She claims she is too busy to help with the animals or the rest of the chores, so I am forced to deal with them and laundry, and tending the chickens … can you believe that? _**

**_That is servants work … AND NOW I HAVE TO DO IT!_**

**_How is any of this fair?_**

**_I hate this place Lizzy, I hate Caroline, I hate chickens, and I hate, hate, hate sheep. _**

**_Robert is a nice enough man, but I don't like him. He is not George. George was romantic and sweet and he made me feel pretty. Robert rarely speaks and he grunts like a stuck pig during relations. Thankfully he has only done it twice since I've been here even though we are forced to share a bed._**

**_Now I understand what mama meant._**

**_Can't you see how miserable this place makes me? How is that fair? You and Jane get to marry rich men and live in big estates and have lots of servants, while I am practically a servant myself._**

**_How is that fair?_**

**_Lizzy I promise I will forgive your Mr. Darcy for forcing me to marry Mr. Martin and for what he did to George, if you just let me come live with you, or send me enough money so I can go live somewhere else. Somewhere far away from here. _**

**_I have to get out of here or I will go crazy._**

**_You owe me for trying to take George away, and Mr. Darcy owes me for having him killed._**

**_I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!_**

**_Lydia_**

Lizzy tried very hard not to laugh, she truly did.

It didn't work.

Lydia hadn't changed one bit. She still blamed everyone else for her own problems, and still expected someone else to fix things for her.

Just like Charles.

Lizzy was tired of dealing with everyone else's problems. She was tired of thinking about Charles and Jane. She was tired of hurting over the fact that her father still had not made any effort to contact her or apologize. She was tired of trying to delude herself into believing that her mother actually cared about her and she was really tired of listening to Lydia blame she and William for the predicament she had gotten herself into with her impulsive and selfish behavior.

She was tired of worrying about things she had no control over.

She was done!

It was time to simply deal with the things she could control.

She would be the best sister she could be to Mary, Kitty and Georgiana.

She would work hard to make sure she became the best mistress of both Pemberley and Darcy House.

She would do her utmost to provide William with as many healthy children as he desired.

She would be the best wife it was in her power to be.

And most of all … she would love her husband … she would love him with every fiber of her being.

That she could do … often and quite thoroughly.


	18. Outtake

**A/N: This was a chapter I had originally written and planned to include in the story, but I decided against it. It is in first person, Darcy's POV, but I thought it was too racy to include. I have had some requests for some more lemons, so have included it as an outtake while I finish the final two chapters.**

**It is rated 'M' for a reason. If you get offended by overtly sexual acts, I suggest you skip this chapter. You won't be missing anything from the plot line. Just some smut. **

I watch as the water drips off the sponge and rolls down her nude form, her skin taking on a luminescent sheen in the candlelight, every curve beautifully highlighted by the darker shadows underneath.

Her long, lithe form, equal parts softness and strength. The soft curve of her breast giving way to the toned line of her stomach. Her full hips tapering off into strong thighs. The delicacy of her collarbone drawing my eyes along her shoulders to her lightly muscled arms, and ending with her small, but very capable hands.

She is a study in contrasts, and I momentarily wish I possessed the necessary skill to be able to adequately capture her essence on canvas … but her beauty is for my eyes alone.

And I doubt any painting would ever do her justice. That intangible quality that makes her Elizabeth could not be recreated with mere paint.

I watch enviously as the soap suds slide languidly down her body, almost jealous as her hands sensuously traverse her silky skin, her eyes half closed, her mind obviously elsewhere.

What is she thinking about?

Is she imagining my hands on her breasts as she slowly washes, her nipple hardened to a tight peak, and her breath catching?

My eyes hungrily devour every inch of her flesh as her hands trace the path I long to follow; her soapy fingers delving into the folds of her perfect sex. The pink lips swelling as she rubbed. Is she imagining my fingers? Or maybe, my tongue?

I love to taste the sweet nectar of her arousal, her juices flowing out of her puffy pink lips like an overripe piece of fruit, so sweet, so delectable. I love to lick her juices off her inner thighs as she squirms, eager for my tongue to go where she needs it most. I try to delay the moment, savoring the anticipation of that first peek, that first tangy taste as my tongue swipes across her succulent inner lips, but I am too eager, unable to deny myself the bounty before me.

Like a flower, my fingers gently part her petals seeking her inner stigma, her engorged pearl eagerly awaiting my touch.

My thoughts are interrupted as she gently pours the jug of water over her body to wash away the soap; it runs in rivulets down her legs. I watch as a solitary drop of water dips into her belly button before continuing its journey. My tongue aches to drink it, to capture even a hint of her taste.

She is a goddess.

She is my very own Aphrodite.

She is all mine.

I approach her silently just as she steps out of the tub, her hand reaching for the towel just as I reach her. She jumps as I give in to temptation and lick a drop of water from her neck. Her taste slightly diluted by the lavender in the soap, but still divine.

She starts to speak, but I place one finger against her soft lips, "Shh," I whisper, my lips ghosting across her ear and she shivers, whether from the cold or me, I cannot tell.

I gently take the towel from her and slowly dry her, making sure to pay extra attention to her nooks and crevices. I will be coming back to those later.

I can feel her heartbeat increase as I softly kiss the base of her neck where it almost touches her shoulder … that is where she is the most fragrant … her scent enveloping me with its familiarity and sweetness. Like warm sunshine and vanilla, I would recognize her scent anywhere. It follows me into my dreams and calls to me like a siren whenever I am away from her.

I know what I want to do tonight. I have imagined it many times, imagined exactly what I would do. Will she let me?

I ask.

"Do you trust me?" I whisper, my question startles her from her languid thoughts.

She answers without hesitation.

"Yes."

I let out my breath. "Just … ," I hesitate as I look deeply into her eyes, "trust me."

She nods.

I gently take her hand and lead her into the bedroom. The chandelier has been snuffed out and only the firelight and a few candles remain, bathing the room in a warm glow. I lead her towards the bed, my heart racing in anticipation.

I gently trace my finger along her cheek and lean forward for a chaste kiss, lips barely touching as I remove the silk tie off my robe. Her eyes widen slightly when she sees what's in my hand, and her heart rate increases.

I look into her eyes.

"Do you trust me?"

She hesitates before giving me another nod; her eyes cautious, but filled with love and trust.

I lean forward and kiss her, tenderly sucking her plump bottom lip into my mouth and nipping gently.

"Thank you." My words can be felt more than heard, but she offers me a small smile of acknowledgment.

I slowly place the silk tie wrap around her eyes, noting her increased breathing, but no resistance to my actions.

"So beautiful," I murmur against her ear as I run my tongue along the delicate outer shell. "So very, very beautiful."

I take her hand and lead her to the bed, lifting her easily and placing her in the very middle, her arms and legs spread for me.

She looks like she is offering herself to me, a succulent buffet.

I continue to whisper sweet words as I first tie one arm, then the other, to the headboard, making sure the silk ties do not chafe her wrists.

"Do you trust me?" I whisper yet again as I hover over her, my lips skimming along her jawline.

Less hesitation this time. She nods.

My heart soars at her admission, and I reward her with a kiss, my tongue sliding along her bottom lip begging entrance into her sweet mouth. She grants it and her tongue reaches up to meet mine, sweetly, sensuously, deeply. We meet in the middle and take turns taking control. I allow her this for now.

Soon she will not have any control.

"Beautiful, so very beautiful," I whisper again, as I move down to secure her ankles.

I can hear her breathing now; I know she needs reassurance.

"Relax my love. I will not hurt you," I whisper against her lips.

"Do you trust me?" I ask for the final time.

She hesitates for only a moment.

"Yes," her voice is like a soothing balm on my soul. Only she has that effect on me. Only she has that power over me. She may be tied to the bed, but she has me wrapped so tightly to her that she could destroy me with just one word.

She owns me.

But I trust her.

I stand and remove my robe, appreciating the sensuous feel of the silk sliding against my skin; the sound as it falls and pools on the floor, strangely loud in the quiet room.

I allow my eyes free reign over her restrained form. Her skin glowing in the light of the fire, golden against the deep blue brocade.

"You have no idea how captivating you look right now my love," I speak quietly, unwilling to shatter the beauty of the moment.

I long to taste her … to touch her … to feel her.

She is all mine.

I pour a small amount of wine and take a drink, the tartness a shock to my taste buds, a perfect foil for her sweetness. I offer my second mouthful to her, my fingers stroking her bottom lip, encouraging her lips to open and drink. I watch her throat move as she swallows the wine, and follow the movement with my tongue.

Her breath hitches. The blindfold, by taking away one of her senses, has increased the others. Every sensation is heightened.

I plann to make her drown in sensation.

And then I will drown myself in her.

My tongue continues along her throat, followed by hot, open mouthed kisses. She shivers again.

The room is overly warm, so I know she isn't cold.

She is feeling.

I kiss along her shoulder and up her arm, my nose skimming the surface in my mouth's wake. When I reach her wrist I lick the pulse point just under the surface. Savoring the feel as her pulse kicks up at the gesture.

My hands lovingly follow the path my lips and tongue have forged. Her skin is now covered in a light sheen; her natural scent filling my senses.

My tongue searches out the silky skin on the underside of her breast, her nipples hardened peaks begging for attention; her body arches, begging my mouth for more contact.

I ignore her as I continue along her chest towards her other breast, avoiding the area she most wants me to reach as I worship the pale globes from all sides.

She isn't ready yet.

My cock twitches painfully to let me know I was ready.

But this isn't about me. This is all for her, even if she doesn't realize it yet.

But she will before the night is over.

My hands stroke along the planes of her abdomen, barely skimming the surface. Her skin prickles in response and her breath hitches. My tongue follows along the same path; her breath hitches even more.

I hesitate at her navel; that small indentation has always fascinated me and I nibble and lick along the edges before dipping in to taste the sweetness in the middle. She squirms but remains silent.

My sweet Elizabeth.

I kiss along the curve of her hip, some of the softest skin on her body is located just inside her hip. It is ivory silk. I could spend days in this spot if she allowed me. It is so perfect. Smooth and creamy and delectable.

Her hips give way to her thighs.

My wife has, without question, the most beautiful legs I have ever seen on a woman. They are long, toned, and perfectly proportioned. Every time I see them or even think of them, I imagine them wrapped around my waist as I slam into her.

It is a very good thought, but not one that could have been played out, until … hopefully … tonight.

I have always taken care not to be too rough while making love. Always holding myself back from really letting go.

Ignoring that almost primitive need to claim; to pillage and plunder.

Tonight I plan to change that.

I want her aching and dripping for me; begging for me to pleasure her.

I believe she is ready. She has wanted more the last few times we have made love, but wasn't sure what she wanted, so she didn't ask.

I need her to ask. I need her to beg. Then I will give her what she needs.

And what I need.

I need to claim her, to mark her. To make her mine in every way.

My hands slide along every inch of her beautiful thighs to her ankles and back again. I pause at the juncture of her womanhood; her juices visible in the shimmering firelight as they seep out of her.

My cock aches to bathe in those juices, to slide into her wetness and lay siege to her battlements. But I need to wait.

Her hips arch up as my nose skims along her mound, inhaling the musk of her arousal.

Nectar of the gods.

She struggles against the bindings and whimpersas I skim my nose along her outer lips, barely touching. I blow a hot breath along her nub, and she moans loudly.

"Please," she begs, breaking the silence.

"Shh," I whisper back. "Trust me."

My nose leaves nirvana in search of more carnal delights, and stop on her breasts once more. This time I allow my tongue to lave her taut nipples and she begins to pant and a new rush of moisture floods the fingers which are softly skimming along her outer lips and inner thigh.

I suck one turgid peak into my mouth while gently pinching her other.

She screams in pleasure.

There she is.

I continue alternating back and forth to ensure both lovely peaks receive equal treatment; her hips grind against my chest seeking friction. I know she is getting close.

I move back down her body towards her succulent flower, and she almost cries in relief as my fingers stroke along her lips, gently spreading them to expose her engorged nub.

My tongue gently laves her most sensitive spot, and my cock weeps as I take my first taste. She is sublime. I explore every inch of her, my tongue seeks out every drop of her sweet juices and devour them.

As her hips begin a rhythmic dance, I insert first one then another finger into her moist opening. She is liquid silk; I soon locate the spot that causes her to almost come off the bed.

I lick and suck her small nub while stroking her inner walls, my fingers curling inward. She is panting and squeezing her thighs, as much as she can considering she is tied down.

This is heaven.

I look up at her from my vantage point. The view is incomparable.

Her cheeks are flushed a beautiful pink; her nipples are tight and erect; her chest is heaving with the effort to breathe, and her mouth is open in a silent 'O.'

Perfection.

But I need to see her fall apart, I need her sated yet aching for more.

I add another finger and suck on her nub harder than before, and that was it. Her body begins to shudder and her inner walls clench down tight over my fingers as she screams out my name.

Beyond perfection.

I slow my strokes as she rides out her completion, my tongue licks along her nub but not applying too much direct pressure to the overly sensitized skin.

Her breath is coming in softer pants as she comes back down from her high, her entire body flushed and absolutely breathtaking.

I want her so badly, my hips unconsciously grind against the mattress in search of some relief. But I am not done yet.

I use my finger to slowly stroke her while I work my way back up to her breasts. I am not as gentle this time, her already heightened state rekindles more quickly, her nipples already hard and eager for my mouth. I give her what she needs.

The buildup this time is quicker, and she begins to pant again within minutes. I can feel her breathing escalate as I stroke a steady rhythm on her nub. Soon she starts to keen as she nears her peak again.

And I stop.

She screams in frustration.

"Please William, please … I need … ," she begs. I know she isn't quite there yet.

But I was. My cock is throbbing with need and it takes all my willpower to restrain from entering her.

I trail gentle kisses along her jaw and on her mouth, skirting just out of reach when she tries to deepen it.

"Please … " she whispers again.

"Shh. Almost, love … almost." My words sooth her and she calms down some.

I skim my knuckles across her overly sensitized nipples and she arches in response, my mouth nipping and sucking lightly on the skin just below her ear; her hips arch again.

I tweak her nipples and she screams; her panting breaths tell me she is almost ready. I suck one of her nipples into my mouth and trace tighter and tighter circles on her nub with my thumb, using two fingers to enter her once more.

She begins to thrash wildly and I know she just needs a last little push.

I stop once more, and this time she screams loudly in frustrated need.

"William … please … I need … I need you … please … ," her begging is music to my ears. It is what I have been waiting for.

Now she wants … needs it … and I am more than ready to give it to her.

"Shh, I'm going to give it to you now love." My breathing had escalated along with hers and I just hope I didn't end things before they have even begun.

I slide up her body and latch onto her mouth, kissing her with all the pent up lust and desire I have inside and she eagerly meets my every move, her tongue trying to get deeper and closer to mine.

She is ready.

I grasp the base of my cock and enter her slowly, taking deep breaths to hold back the onslaught of pleasure that always floods me as soon as I feel her incredible heat.

It is a close thing.

Her hips are already straining towards mine, and I back off and quickly untie her ankles. I needed to feel her legs wrapped around me. She quickly complies as she arches up even farther.

I take another deep breath as the immediate danger of my finishing within seconds of being inside her silken heaven, subsides, and I slowly begin to move.

She is impatient with my slow pace, so I increase it a little at a time to build her up to it, then I kiss her.

Kissing her is almost a religious experience for me. The connection when our lips touch is incredible, and sends little shocks throughout my body.

In her impatience, she pulls my tongue into her mouth and sucks on it.

That is new.

And it is bloody fantastic. My hips begin a more demanding pace and she meets every stroke.

"Please William …. ," she pants, "please untie me, I want to feel you."

I rush to comply, my mission accomplished. I also remove her blindfold as well, eager to see those eyes that I love so much.

She runs her hands into my hair and pulls, sending another bolt of heat through my cock and I grab her hips and drive myself even deeper into her hot, wet, heaven.

'Harder … ," she pants, and it is music to my ears.

I grabb her legs and place them on my shoulders, and I slam even deeper into her. The new angle causes her to squeeze me even tighter and I know I will not last very much longer. The depth is so, so good.

"You … feel so … sooo good … oh Elizabeth … uuggnn … ," I feel myself begin to spiral; I am getting desperate for her to finish as well; the headboard is banging against the wall in a surprisingly loud cadence, but I could not bring myself to care. I finally reach between us to tweak her nub, hoping the extra stimulation will feel good to her.

Apparently it works, and just as I am starting to crest, she screams out my name and scratches her nails down my back as her entire body arches into me; her walls become impossibly tight around my already pulsing cock.

It is incredible … earth shattering … indescribable.

It is perfection.

I release her legs and gently ease myself out of her, gently rubbing her arms and shoulders, praying I haven't hurt her.

"Are you … ," I struggle to get my breath back, "are you alright?" I look at her in concern. "Did I hurt you?"

She smiles a smile I have never seen before. Part satisfaction, part minx.

"I am fine William," she sighs contentedly and snuggles deeper into my sweaty chest, "You have been holding out on me," she accuses in a tired voice.

"I plan to discuss that with you in greater length … tomorrow," she mumbles, her eyes already drooping as exhaustion claims her, " … we will talk tomorrow … ,"

I scoot us over until we are both ensconced under the covers. Completely sated and blissfully happy.

She had loved it. She had begged for it.

I cannot seem to remove the smile from my face as sleep begins to creep in on me as well.

"Tomorrow … ," I agree as I join her in sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Okay, this is it. Please don't kill me. I know a lot of you hoped for a different outcome, but I just started writing and this is what ended up on the page. I hope no one is too disappointed. **

**I only have the very long epilogue (from multiple POV's) left, and maybe another outtake, but I can't make any promises on that one.**

William looked up from his desk at the sound of girlish laughter that drifted in through the closed door. He determined that they must have just returned from their daily walk.

It had been so nice having his sister back home, at least for a few weeks, until all three girls headed off to school.

Both Mary and Kitty had been quiet when they first arrived last week, but had since relaxed and were starting to open up. Georgiana had helped considerably, especially with Kitty, and now they were almost inseparable.

As expected, Mary spent a lot of time in the music room, but thankfully, Georgiana had convinced her to try some of the more upbeat pieces of music, and she was now playing more lively tunes … much to everyone's relief.

The past few weeks had been blissful, exhausting, blissful, stressful, blissful, and frustrating … but mostly blissful.

After that horrible day at Darcy House, first having to deal with Charles, then walking in on Elizabeth ready to tear the eyes out of that horrid Johnson woman, and finally, reading the letters from the Bennet family, he was more than ready to get as far away from London as possible, and head home to Pemberley.

He had never felt any violent tendencies towards women, and though he had come close with that woman that made his Lizzy doubt both him, and herself, it wasn't until he read the words sent to his love by those she calls family, that for the first time in his life, it took a considerable effort not to ride to Longbourne, and strangle one of them.

Mrs. Bennet just for being an annoying, vicious harpy, her youngest sister Lydia for being … well … herself, and her sister Jane, for being both selfish and self absorbed, and breaking Elizabeth's heart.

Elizabeth had finally convinced him that they weren't worth wasting his anger on any longer … and _she_ had no intention of worrying about it anymore. She had sent a short, but succinct letter to her father and mother making it clear that she was finished. She would be happy to host Mary and Kitty for as long as they desired, but their door would be firmly closed to any other Bennet.

He had watched her closely for any lingering regrets after she sent the letter, but hadn't noticed anything except a momentary sadness every now and then. The rest of the time, she seemed to almost glow with happiness.

Much like himself.

The confrontation with Charles that morning had not been pretty. He had been understanding the day before, because, to be honest, he was still shocked by what his friend had been sharing with him … and after three glasses of brandy Charles was pretty useless ... so he saved his recriminations until his friend was sober.

After he had time to sound things out with Elizabeth, he had gotten angry at Charles' cavalier treatment of Emily's affections. A gentleman just _did not _do that sort of thing. That was what rakes did … and while Charles did tend to fall in and out of love fairly easy ... he had always been respectful and fair.

The whole situation was both perplexing and disappointing.

Charles had looked pretty rough that morning, but that hadn't stopped Darcy from speaking his mind and letting his … friend? … know exactly how he felt. Charles had simply listened while Darcy had ranted; nodding his head in some places and wincing in others, but remaining surprisingly silent throughout.

His reticence had actually surprised Darcy.

After he had finished outlining the possible consequences and repercussions of each decision, he had made it plain that unless Charles did the right thing and honored his promise to Jane, he would no longer be welcome in their home.

Charles remained silent for quite a while after that, and Darcy was content to simply drink his coffee and hope his words had made an impression. He truly had always only wanted his friend to be happy, which was why he had made the mistake of advising Charles to leave Netherfield, and consequently, Jane, in the first place.

After his error was pointed out at Rosings, he had made every effort to rectify his mistake. He was wrong and he wasn't too proud to admit it.

He had just wanted his friend back.

And he wanted Elizabeth to be happy.

Now, the person that could so callously lead someone on, and that would give little, or no, thought to his existing fiance … that person was not someone he wanted as a friend.

When Charles finally spoke, he looked utterly defeated. He explained that he had spent the night analyzing his behavior and realized he had been at fault. He swore that he would make things right again. He planned to write to Jane and let her know he would be arriving in a few weeks to help plan the wedding and re-open Netherfield. But first, he would have to look into selling the estate in Somerset, and speak to Emily's father about the misunderstanding. His hope was that Mr. Palmer would be reasonable and not follow through on his threats of a duel.

Darcy didn't realize until after Charles had taken his leave, that he had never mentioned talking to Emily. Did Charles actually have feelings for the woman?

He decided to make one last discreet inquiry on Charles' behalf, and that evening before dinner, he went to see his solicitor and have him find out what he could about Mr. Palmer. He liked knowing who he was dealing with in business and this was business … of a sort. He knew it wasn't his business any longer, but he felt better knowing he was better prepared should Charles have problems with the man.

He had finally received a packet in the mail two days ago, but had yet to open it. He had been enjoying his time with Elizabeth and the girls so much, that he had been doing the bare minimum, opting instead to help his wife settle in … among other things.

They had spent hours and hours traversing all the hidden coves, streams, and meadows on his vast estate. She had picked up horseback riding fairly quickly, but she still preferred to walk or ride double with him … and who was he to complain?

The feel of Elizabeth firm thighs and plump bottom pressed back against his groin as they rode, was a stimulus he had never anticipated … until the horse sped up.

An erection did not fare well against the hard leather of his saddle.

He kept his horse to a walk after that.

They had taken to bringing a blanket whenever they went out, because invariably they would end up in some type of amorous situation, and they had learned the hard way to always be prepared. He simply could not keep his hands off of her … and thankfully, she seemed to have the same affliction … and he had never been happier, or more content in his life.

He had been listening to men speak candidly about their wives for as long as he could remember, and it usually was not in a very flattering manner. Countless times he had been advised to marry well, produce an heir, and then find a mistress or two to satisfy his urges. It was a common practice among his peers.

Another commonly held belief was that nice women, women in _his_ social circle, didn't _like_ having sexual relations, it was something that was tolerated simply for procreation. It was a necessary evil. The price one paid for a lifetime of security.

This had always disturbed him, and if he were honest, was always at the back of his mind whenever he contemplated marriage. He had spent countless hours observing women … the women deemed socially acceptable for him to court … and while many were beautiful, or accomplished, or friendly enough, they all seemed to lack … something.

He had found that something in Elizabeth. From the first, her passion and fire, her zest for life, her intelligence and sparkling wit, and yes, even her antagonism towards him, had intrigued him. He knew, without quite understanding how, that she would be as equally passionate in the bedroom as she was while arguing ... and he would be lying if he said that hadn't excited him.

It had been that thought that had driven him to kiss her at Rosings. For even if only once, he wanted to feel that fire, to taste her divine essence, and see if he was right.

He had been.

She was everything he could have possibly hoped for in a wife ... and more.

He had observed his parent's marriage through the distracted eyes of a young boy as yet unconcerned with such things. The fact that his parents were obviously very much in love, and very affectionate with each other, was just one more thing he took for granted. It wasn't until after his mother's death, that his father began to speak to him about women and marriage.

He made sure his son knew never to dabble with the servants; it was appalling behavior, unworthy of the Darcy heir. Or unmarried women, no matter what they offered, or how tempting they were, it never ended well, and was not the behavior of a gentleman. If needed, there were places one could go to relieve their urges, without hurting anyone or ruining any young lady's reputation.

He wanted his son to marry someone worthy of the Darcy name, but ultimately, he wanted him to marry for love.

Darcy's sense of duty had almost blinded him to what was right in front of him, but in the end he knew he had made the best choice possible. He had a beautiful and intelligent wife he was proud of; one that was equally passionate, and that he loved more than anything.

Life, for the most part, was very good.

Then his mind drifted unwittingly back to Charles.

He hadn't heard anything from him in weeks, but Elizabeth had received a letter last week from Jane with the news of Charles' imminent arrival back at Netherfield. Apparently, both Jane and Mr. Bennet had received a missive from Charles stating his intentions.

Jane had made no mention of Lizzy's letter.

Darcy was relieved Charles had made the correct choice, he just hoped that things with the Palmers had gone smoothly. He knew Charles would have to take a loss on his estate; he had spent a lot of cash to make it productive again, but would not have recouped his expenses yet for another few years. He would have to either sell it and take a loss … or he could hold onto the property, and once things cooled down a bit he could go back. Worst case, he could hire someone to run it until he could deed it to his future son.

He was pulled out of his ruminations by a soft knock before Elizabeth entered the room. She had a pink glow on her cheeks from her walk with Georgiana and Kitty; she looked beyond lovely, and there was a sparkle in her eyes that hadn't been present in London. He knew that, like him, she preferred country life to living in the city, which suited him perfectly, as he was very happy to live out his life in the country.

She smiled, and he motioned her over to sit in his lap, his favorite place for her … well, his favorite place for her while in public.

He buried his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled her heady scent mixed with the smell of fresh air. Just the feel of her in his arms was enough to distract him from his business, but there was nothing that couldn't wait ... except kissing her … that definitely couldn't wait.

Elizabeth, as was usually the case, seemed just as eager to kiss him. He decided to make the most of her position on his lap and trailed a hand under her dress and along her inner thigh towards her silken heat. He could feel the wetness seeping through the thin cotton of her underclothes as he stroked her; her breathy moans sending desire shooting straight to his manhood, and he groaned.

He needed her … now!

They were interrupted, as always seemed to be the case lately, by a knock on the door.

He sighed in frustration as he gently placed Elizabeth back on her feet, and grudgingly moved to open it. As soon as he dealt with whomever it was, the sooner they could get back to what they were doing. He discretely adjusted himself in the hopes of hiding the evidence of his arousal … but breeches didn't leave much to the imagination … so instead grabbed a book to covertly hold in front of himself.

It was Mrs. Reynolds. As she had already caught them in compromising situations twice in the last week, he doubted she believed he was reading.

"Sir, there is someone here to see you," she began in her usual no nonsense tone of voice, her eyes flicking from Elizabeth and back to him almost too quickly to notice. Her small smile told him all he needed to know … she knew what they had been doing … and despite her air of disapproval, he knew it was all for show.

If he was happy, then she was happy.

He had been quite pleased at the ease with which Mrs. Reynolds and Elizabeth had taken to each other, and as she was the closest thing to a mother he had left, it thrilled him that she approved wholeheartedly of his choice.

Elizabeth was just what Pemberley needed ... just what he needed.

"She said you may know of her through Mr. Bingley. Her name is Miss Emily Palmer." he recognized the slightest hint of a question in his housekeeper's tone. He knew she was curious about what an apparently single woman would be doing at Pemberley.

He was wondering the same thing.

He stood stock still for a moment; his mind unable to comprehend why she would be here. How had she even known where to find him? Had she come here to cause trouble? Or did she need help and somehow expected him to provide it?

Why was she here?

He looked to Elizabeth for guidance, but she seemed at just as much of a loss as he was. But his wife was a woman of action, so she straightened her hair, smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress and joined him at the door before addressing Mrs. Reynolds.

"Thank you. If you would please show her into the blue sitting room and send along a tea tray, it would be greatly appreciated," His wife's affection for the older woman was evident in her voice, and he loved her all the more for it.

He placed the book he was holding back on the table; its usefulness no longer needed in light of their visitor, and glanced down at his wife. He wasn't surprised to see the same questions brewing in her eyes.

"Well? Shall we get this over with and see what she wants?" he leaned down to place a soft kiss near her ear, "And then we can pick up where we left off," he added in a low voice as her breath hitched.

'Yes, my love." she almost purred in response, her color still slightly heightened from their brief interlude.

"Although, I can't help but wonder why she is here. What business could she possibly have with you?" she gave him a pointed look, "I hope Charles hasn't sent her here for you to deal with."

"I am hesitant to even speculate," he answered, tucking her hand into his elbow and escorting her from the room, "And any business she has is with both of us. I know better than to be alone with strange women, my dear," he said with a wink.

They made no further conversation as they traversed the hallway towards the front of the house.

The blue room, as Elizabeth was so fond of calling it, was the closest sitting room to the front entrance and was rarely used, except in rare cases such as this, when a caller was unknown to him. He had never felt comfortable having people he barely knew come any further into his house than was absolutely necessary, which was just one of the reasons why visitors were not allowed to tour inside the house while he, or his family, were at home.

He had a fleeting thought that maybe they could remain in the 'blue room' after Miss Palmer's departure, and see if the couches were as comfortable in there as they were in the 'yellow room.'

Strictly for research purposes of course.

He hesitated outside the door and gave his wife's hand one more squeeze before entering the room to find a petite brunette with bright blue eyes waiting for them. She was admittedly handsome, but not nearly enough to tempt him. He smiled at the irony of that thought and wished he could share it with Elizabeth.

She would appreciate his humor. It was yet another thing he loved about her.

She stood as they entered. If she was surprised that Elizabeth has accompanied him, she didn't show it. In fact, she looked very stiff and composed and not at all like Charles had described her. Upon closer inspection, he noted that she had deep circles under her eyes, and despite her cool expression, she appeared nervous; her hands clenched tightly at her side.

Something was obviously bothering her.

He introduced himself and Elizabeth and invited her to be seated just as the tea tray arrived. No one spoke as Elizabeth deftly poured out the tea. Emily seemed almost grateful for something to occupy her hands, as she took her first sip.

He decided to speak first, as she seemed unsure of what to say. "How may we help you Miss Palmer?"

She seemed momentarily taken aback by his voice, but regained her composure quickly before answering. "I appreciate you taking the time to see me Mr. Darcy," she nodded to Elizabeth, "Mrs. Darcy."

She took another sip of tea before placing it back on the table, "I am assuming by your surprised expressions that Cha … Mr. Bingley mentioned me. Am I correct in that assumption?"

When they both nodded, she continued, "May I speak frankly? I have quite a lot to tell ... and it will be hard enough … ," she paused and took a deep breath, "I would prefer to just get it over with as quickly and as concisely as possible, if that is agreeable."

Elizabeth answered for the both of them, "My husband and I would actually prefer it if you do Miss Palmer."

She appeared ill at ease, and seemed to be internally debating something, before finally offering a tight smile and nodding.

"I suppose it would be best if I just started from the beginning," she looked towards Elizabeth who smiled and nodded encouragingly, which seemed to put her slightly more at ease.

"My father," she hesitated, her eyes closed as if pained.

William suddenly had a very bad feeling that this story wasn't going to end well. When he felt Elizabeth thread her fingers tightly through his, he knew she sensed the same thing.

Emily cleared her throat and began again, "My father, as you may or may not know, owns the neighboring estate to the one that Cha … Mr. Bingley … ," she paused when he quietly interrupted her.

"Maybe, for ease in telling the story, you should just call him Charles. We will not take offense at the familiarity," he paused, "we are aware of the situation, or at least we were up until three weeks ago," he added as an aside.

She smiled weakly and nodded again before continuing.

"_Charles_ … ," she added extra emphasis to his name, but he wasn't exactly sure why, "as you are probably already aware, bought the neighboring estate to ours. I met him for the first time when he joined us for dinner about a week after his arrival in Somerset. He seemed like a very amiable man; very happy and pleasant to be around," she paused again and closed her eyes as if remembering something painful. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and resumed speaking.

"He seemed to get on well enough with my father, but that is not unusual. My father can be an agreeable man when he so desires," her voice turned bitter.

He wished now he had read that dossier on Mr. Palmer.

"My father made it clear from the first, that he expected me to do my utmost to encourage Charles' affections. I haven't always agreed with my father, but suitors in Somerset that meet my father's exacting criteria aren't exactly falling out of the woodwork, so I was more than happy to get to know Charles better to see if there was any sort of mutual attraction between us."

She paused to take a drink of her tea, and he used the opportunity to glance at Elizabeth and see how she was reacting to the story so far. She seemed nonplussed and gave him a small smile before turning back to face Emily.

"I soon found I enjoyed spending time with Charles. He was easy to talk to, attractive, and seemed to really care about his tenants, which told me he was a kind and compassionate man. The more time we spent together only seemed to solidify in everyone's mind, particularly my fathers, that a formal announcement would soon be forthcoming."

She hesitated, her brow furrowed.

"I liked Charles," she met his eyes as if seeking understanding, "I truly did, … but … there really was no passion there, and he wasn't exactly the most ... well read ... man around," she paused to gauge their reactions to her less than flattering assessment of Charles' intelligence. He found it hard to hold her honesty against her; he had felt that way about Charles at times as well.

When her statement failed to elicit any recriminations, she seemed to relax marginally before speaking again.

"I meant no offense towards your friend, but I see no reason to hide the truth at this point," She gave another weak smile, "Regardless, I had determined that if he asked, I would accept his proposal."

He wondered if Elizabeth resented Emily, as she was, or at least, had been, Jane's competition. His wife gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He could swear she knew exactly what he was thinking at times.

He refocused on Emily.

"Not the most altruistic of reasons for marriage, I know, but our society isn't exactly structured that way is it?" Her question was obviously rhetorical, and she gave a bitter laugh at something only she was privy to. "I had no great expectations of falling in love with Charles, I have already done that once in my life and it didn't end well," she paused as if debating how much to reveal.

"You see, I committed the unforgivable social faux paux of falling in love with someone considered beneath me. When my father found out … well … you can imagine his reaction," she hesitated, "we decided to flaunt convention, and made plans to run away together," her voice faltered, "Somehow my father found out ... and I never saw Robert again."

They both averted their eyes to allow Emily a moment to compose herself. Elizabeth made an elaborate production out of refilling all of the teacups and serving cake, a gesture Emily seemed appreciative of and she offered Elizabeth a small smile of thanks.

She took a sip of her newly warmed tea before she resumed speaking.

"I suspected my father of driving Robert away somehow, but I could never prove anything, and eventually the matter was dropped. When Charles came along, I recognized him for what he was, my best possibility of getting out from under my father's control for good," she smiled sheepishly, "I realize how mercenary that sounds, but I truly did like Charles, and I would have worked hard to be the best wife possible to him."

She suddenly leaned forward, her eyes locked with his beseechingly. "Please know, that I truly mean that. The last thing I would _ever_ want to do is hurt Charles. I always thought he was a good man … an honorable man … ," she stopped suddenly as if aware how that sounded in light of Charles' duplicity.

"As you very well know, the expected proposal never came. He danced with me at every dance, we rode together unchaperoned around the estate … and we became friends … or at least I thought so," she looked down at her hands which were clenched tightly in her lap.

Had she been trying to force him into a compromised position, or had she just allowed him to disregard soietal dictates because she had thought he was courting her?

He was trying to be fair to Emily, but he was having doubts about the level of familiarity she allowed. She should have been concerned about her own reputation, even if Charles hadn't been.

Her voice sounded less sure now.

"Charles told my father he had to go to London on business for a week or so, or at least that is what my father told me at the time. It wasn't until Charles called on us a week ago, that I found out the truth," she blinked rapidly and looked away, her hands shaking as she attempted to take a drink of tea.

Was she that upset over Charles' defection? He wouldn't have expected her to be, since she admittedly hadn't cared very deeply for him. Her situation with her father must have been worse than she was letting on.

Or was he missing something obvious?

When she next began to speak, her voice shook slightly, "I knew he was back in the area; there are no secrets in small towns, but almost a week had passed before Charles came to call, looking very nervous and agitated. He seemed almost relieved when he was informed my father was out. I don't think he expected to see me, and to be honest, he didn't look very happy about it."

She shook her head in exasperation, "I should have known then that something was wrong, but I was just happy he had returned, as I saw it at the time, for me. We spoke in banalities until he seemed to come to a resolution, and asked me to take a turn with him around the garden. I just knew that that was it … he was going to propose."

She seemed to become lost in her own thoughts once again. She did that a lot, and it was quite distracting.

He shot Elizabeth a questioning look, his patience was waning, but she gave a minute shake of her head … they would wait her out.

He wasn't used to having to wait when he wanted answers.

They nibbled on cake and drank more tea, each attempting to appear unconcerned about the woman sitting across from them that had apparently forgotten their existence.

He quietly cleared his throat in the hopes of jarring her from her ruminations. This was, after all, their house, and he had no desire to entertain Charles' spurned woman for any longer than necessary.

Especially, when he could be occupied in much more pleasurable pursuits.

Like finishing what he and Elizabeth had started in his study.

He realized he wasn't being very gracious, but he truly was sick of always having to clean up Charles' messes. Wasn't that what this was about? She had obviously come here for a reason.

Was it money?

He tensed as a horrifying thought crossed his mind. Was she with child? Had Charles committed the unpardonable act of completely compromising this woman? And if so, why hadn't Charles told him?

Because Charles knew how he would react to _that_ news, that's why.

As his mind raced with supposition, his anger at his friend escalated, until Elizabeth began to sense his growing distress and gently stroked his arm in an effort to soothe him. He appreciated the contact, even if it did little to appease his growing anger.

She must have felt him tense up, and no doubt, her own mind was busy trying to determine Emily's reasons for being here as well.

If only she would just tell them already … if only she …

His increasingly hostile thoughts were interrupted when she spoke again.

"Please forgive me," she faltered, "this is not easy to talk about, but I made a promise to Charles that I would come and I will fulfill my oath."

Her words, instead of clarifying things, confused him even more.

She continued right where she had left off, as if she had never stopped speaking.

"Once in the garden, Charles haltingly explained why he had gone away. He apologized for giving me the impression that he was courting me, and explained about Miss Jane Bennet, and how they were already engaged. He informed me that he would be traveling back to Meryton to assist with the wedding planning as soon as he had spoken to my father."

She looked at him, her eyes sad. "I will admit, he took me completely by surprise. In all the time we had interacted, Charles had never even hinted at being engaged. I would have never pursued him, nor allowed his attentions had I known. Please believe me."

She seemed sincerely distressed, and he couldn't help but believe her ... in that at least.

"He took his leave once he had shared the news with me; I'm sure he could tell I was upset, and he seemed genuinely sorry for 'misleading me,' as he called it, but the damage was done. I was once more stuck in an untenable situation with no escape in sight," she hesitated.

He somehow knew the bad part was coming, he could see her shoulders visibly tense while her eyes darted around the room in search of a distraction … or an anchor.

"My father didn't come home that night until very late, and spent the following morning holed up in his study. My mother kept to her room, something that happened more and more frequently of late, as her health is failing, so I made inquiries about lunch. It was then that one of the servants informed me that my father had been drinking heavily and refused to eat. I was anxious to talk to him, but I knew better than to approach him when he had been drinking. My father was _not_ a nice man when he drank."

She seemed to be speaking faster as her story went on, as if to get it over with quickly.

That wasn't a good sign, and he felt his tension returning.

"I ate a quiet lunch and was on my way outside, I thought a ride might settle my nerves, when I heard my father yelling at someone in his study. I assumed it was a servant that had unwittingly provoked his ire, even though most knew to steer clear of him, and his study, when he was drunk. A servant or two has learned that the hard way. So, I decided to do what I could to intervene on the servant's behalf before he hurt someone … he was usually less likely to lash out at me … "

She paused again, her eyes unfocused as if seeing the scene replay in her mind. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, unsure.

"As I got closer, I recognized the other voice arguing with my father. It was Charles. I couldn't make out much of what they were saying, but it was obvious my father was very, very angry. I heard him clearly call Charles a 'lying coward' and Charles attempting, I assume, to placate my father."

She paused again and swallowed thickly, "The next thing I heard … I heard … ," she looked straight at him, her eyes overflowing with tears.

My gut clenched in fear, not wanting her to complete her story, but knowing she had to. I reached for my anchor, and felt some degree of comfort as Elizabeth's hand slid into mine.

"I heard a gunshot … then the sound a body hitting the floor. I didn't know what to do, but knew I had to do something. Either my father, or Charles, had been shot … and I needed to know," she was speaking almost too quickly, but each of her words felt like blows to him.

He knew what was coming … and wished he could stop it … stop _her_ from saying the words.

"I gathered a few of the strongest servants in the house, and carefully opened the door. My father was slumped at his desk, eyes glazed, a gun dangling from his limp fingers … and Charles … Charles was lying on the floor in a pool of blood … shot through the chest."

I could feel my own chest tighten as Elizabeth wrapped her arms around me, tears flowing silently out of her eyes as she attempted to comfort me. I couldn't speak, but I needed to know.

Elizabeth, sensing my distress, asked the question I was unable to ask.

Her voice thick with tears, she spoke almost too low to hear, "Is he … did he … what happened to Charles?"

Emily looked surprised at the interruption, and it took her a moment to realize what had been asked. Her eyes gave them the answer neither wanted to hear. She looked infinitely sad.

He wanted to scream at her, scream at Mr. Palmer, scream at anyone, but he especially wanted to scream at Charles for getting himself into the situation that had ended his life prematurely.

His body started to shake and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself together much longer, but he _would not_ fall apart in front of this woman. He would hold the pain that was threatening to engulf him at bay … until he could be alone … until _they_ could be alone.

As if sensing his need to hear the remaining details, Emily continued, her voice apologetic, her eyes streaming.

"I sent one of the servants after the doctor, and another to the constable. I was able to take the gun from my father easily… as he seemed to be in shock at what he had done. I attempted to stop the bleeding in Charles' chest … but … it … just … wouldn't … stop."

Her voice shook.

"He asked me to come closer … Charles, I mean … asked me to come closer. He could barely speak. He apologized for how he treated me … and begged me to find you," she faltered as a small sob escaped, but she continued on.

"He begged me to find you and tell you … he was sorry and … and to … th … thank you … for being his only … tr … true fr … friend."

Emily lost the battle with her tears, and collapsed against the armrest.

Elizabeth was crying quietly and looked at him to see how he was holding up. He was struggling to maintain control.

He _needed_ her to finish so he could get away from her.

He knew it was irrational to blame her for what had happened to Charles, but grief is rarely rational.

Elizabeth offered Emily a handkerchief before leaving the room and returning with a bottle of brandy and three glasses. She splashed a generous amount in each glass before giving one to him, placing another into Emily's shaking hands, encouraging her to drink, and taking a tentative sip herself.

He downed the fiery liquid in one gulp, and too his surprise, Emily did the same. It seemed to give her the composure she needed to finish the story.

Elizabeth grabbed his hand between both of hers and held on tight, it was the lifeline he needed.

"My father never even put up a fight when the Constable arrived and placed him under arrest. The doctor came shortly after … but Charles was already … it was too late."

She looked at him, her eyes apologetic once more, "I found out from my mother that my father was deeply in debt and the estate will have to be sold to pay them off, leaving my mother and I with nothing. Not that it will matter to my father. He will either be hanged, die in prison, or face transportation," she didn't sound the least bit concerned about her father's fate.

"Regardless, we are ruined. Evidently, he was counting on Charles' money to save him … to save us … and didn't take it well when Charles broke things off."

She seemed to have pulled herself together somewhat, and stood, obviously anxious to leave now that her promise had been fulfilled.

She had one last thing to say, however, "I am so very sorry to have to be the one to break this news to you. Charles spoke so highly of you numerous times," she paused, "The Constable made inquiries and was able to contact his solicitor. He was the same man who helped him purchase hie estate, so his name was on file. The last I heard, his body was being sent to his family in Scarborough for burial."

As soon as she was finished speaking, she quickly exiting the room, neither party concerned with the breach of etiquette.

They were just as happy to have her gone as she was to leave.

William finally released the tight rein he had on his emotions and buried his head in his hands. He cried out his pain, his anger, and his guilt.

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him and held him as tightly as she could, rocking gently as she whispered that she loved him over and over.

It was enough.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I have decided, as there will be many different POV's in the epilogue, to break it up into smaller segments so as not to overwhelm you with all of them at once … and so that I don't have a 40 page epilogue.**

**These will be shorter and each one is set in the tone reflecting the state of mind of the individual. Obviously, I will be saving Lizzy and Darcy for last.**

**Mr. Bennet's POV**

Quiet.

Peace and quiet.

That is all I have ever really wanted.

I have fathered five daughters, and one son that, sadly, did not survive. I have managed my estate as well as could be expected considering it will be turned over to a complete boob upon my death, and I have been forced to listen to Fanny complain about 'her nerves' for almost thirty years.

That alone should qualify me for sainthood.

Because, dear Lord, that woman can complain, and fret, and screech at decibels not meant for the human ear. Not to mention, drive any sane man to drink … is it really any wonder why I prefer the refuge, I mean, the quiet serenity of my study, surrounded by my books?

Fanny wasn't always like that. There was a time, before our son died, that she was happy.

She was an extremely handsome young woman with a love of life that complemented my introspective nature so perfectly, much like my Lizzy, and she was just the sort of woman that I wanted to help me run my newly inherited estate. She was young, but I was so in love when I asked her to marry me that it didn't matter, and I was walking on clouds for days after she accepted.

I had so many grand plans for us, and I just knew I could accomplish all of them with Fanny by my side.

We were married in a quiet ceremony in London, and Fanny fell pregnant soon after. It was a glorious time and she practically glowed as her pregnancy progressed. I worked hard getting the tenants settled and running the estate, but lived for the moment I could walk in the door at the end of the day and see her smiling face as she lovingly cared for me.

All that changed after she delivered our son. The doctor told us he had been strangled by the cord and never stood a chance.

Fanny was never the same after that. It took a year before she even smiled again, and then she threw herself back into trying for another son.

After Jane was born, the most beautiful baby I had ever laid eyes on, she seemed content for a while, after all, she had wanted a daughter … the next one, she was determined, would be a boy.

It wasn't, and my precious Lizzy paid the price for her mother's disappointment.

Each successive daughter only sent her deeper into a suppressed sort of mania; she prayed daily for a male heir … her sole duty as a wife, according to her ... and she took each subsequent 'failure' personally.

The run was finally over after Lydia was born. Complications from her birth rendered Fanny unable to ever conceive again.

Fanny was devastated, and she latched onto Lydia as her lifeline. Her last child.

I was devastated as well. As much as I loved each of my daughters, I too longed for a son.

After I was appraised of the fact that there would be no chance for a male heir, I lost my desire to do anything but the minimum required to maintain Longbourne … why should I? It was entailed away and not one of my daughters would be able to inherit it.

As the girls grew, Fanny recognized Jane as the beauty of the bunch, the one that would snag a rich husband and save her. She began to plan. Her fear of being 'thrown into the hedgerows' ate at her, and my every cough or scratch became 'my end' and the beginning of 'her doom.'

Even though I knew she was scared of what would become of her after my death, it really was quite tiring to listen to her constantly going on and on about it. If she were that worried, she wouldn't spend every last shilling of her pin money on superficial things, she would save them.

Who needs that much lace?

The Fanny I had loved, the carefree, happy girl, was now just a distant memory. The Fanny I was left with, was bitter, scared, and a bit of a harpy. I tried to still love her, I truly did, but after Lydia, she refused to let me come to her bed any longer. That was the final act that killed whatever affection I had once held for her.

While Fanny doted on Jane as her 'savior,' and Lydia as her baby, the rest of the girls tended to get overlooked. All except for Lizzy, who could do no right in her mother's eyes. Fanny, for reasons I don't quite understand, seemed to hold Lizzy personally responsible for not being the son she had expected her to be.

I also think she saw the same fire in Lizzy that she herself had once possessed, and it represented a life of ideals, hopes and dreams that were no longer a possibility, so she tried to break Lizzy's spirit just as hers had been broken. I knew it wasn't fair, and Lizzy had asked me on numerous occasions why her mother seemed to dislike her so, but I simply told her to not let it bother her.

I didn't know how to explain something that I wasn't sure I even understood myself ... besides, she was better off not knowing.

As she grew, Lizzy soon become my favorite companion. Her insatiable curiosity, our shared love of books, and her unquenchable spirit, despite Fanny's unfair and at times, cruel, treatment of her, had endeared her to me above all my other daughters. She was a bright light amidst my gray existence.

Until _that man_ had come along and taken her away.

She had told me she hated him; we had shared many laughs at his expense. Then she goes to visit Charlotte Collins and comes back engaged? How had that happened?

I just knew he had done something to my sweet Lizzy that had forced her hand, there was no way she could love a man like Mr. Darcy. After all, she had spurned Mr. Collins, with my full support … imagine that toad thinking he was good enough for my Lizzy … and she would do the same to him.

Only she hadn't. She talked about love … _love_ … as if she could possibly love such a self centered and proud man. But she did. And then she left … left without a backwards glance for the man that had spent her whole life telling her how special she was.

She left me.

It took me a long time to forgive her for that, which is why I never wrote to her, but then she wrote and told us she didn't want us to contact her again. That truly hurt. My sweet Lizzy had turned on me for good. _That man_ had poisoned her heart and mind, and she was now lost to me.

She wrote once more, but it just contained news of Mr. Bingley's demise, nothing more. She apparently couldn't even be bothered to visit and tell us in person.

So now they are all gone except for Fanny, but she spends so much time away visiting her other daughters that the house is empty more often than not.

The house is so quiet I can actually hear the clock in the hall ticking away the minutes, and the hours, and the days.

The house is so quiet I can hear my thoughts much too loudly in my head and even my books don't seem to hold the same appeal they always had.

I wish it wasn't so quiet.

**Jane's POV**

I watched as the two girls ran out of the room, ribbons trailing behind them; their excited screams reverberating along the narrow hallway.

I sipped from the glass and turned to look out the small windows facing what passed for a garden in the rear of the house. I knew it would look better if I planted some different flowers and pulled the weeds growing like parasites among the few patches of color left. I knew I should make an effort to fix it.

But I knew I wouldn't.

Honestly, what was the point? The weeds would just grow back and then I'd have to do it all over again.

I took another sip instead.

My insides warming as the liquid slid down my throat.

I was rarely warm these days, so I relished these moments.

I'm still unsure how I ended up here. My life was going so well. My dreams were finally coming true. I had my dream man, was preparing for my dream wedding in less than two months, and I would be living in a large house that I would fill with healthy blonde haired, blue eyed babies.

I would be a good wife and a good mother. I loved Charles, and he loved me. We wouldn't fight like Lizzy and Mr. Darcy, no, _we_ would be blissfully happy for the rest of our lives. I had it all.

Until I had nothing.

When Lizzy's letter arrived, I was angry. How dare she take my dreams away. Was she jealous? Was that the reason for her to send such unwanted and unhappy news? There was no way my Charles could be dead. And who was Mr. Palmer? He couldn't have been killed by a man he didn't even know.

I thought it was all lies.

Until I didn't.

Mama had immediately blamed Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. Her screams could be heard throughout the house, and only a few pieces of her good china had survived the tempest. Then she took to her room and didn't come out for three days.

Papa received the same news and said it was probably for the best before going back into his study and closing the door.

The best for whom?

I still waited. I knew that it had all been a big mistake. My Charles would not leave me. He would come for me and we would laugh about the silly misunderstanding … and maybe I would forgive Lizzy.

I waited for two weeks until a letter finally arrived from Lydia. Caroline had received word of her brother's death and Lydia wondered if I wanted to join her in Scotland since I would now be an 'old maid.'

It was true.

It was all true.

He had left me … again. He swore he wouldn't leave me again … and he had.

I took a larger sip.

Annette, aged nine, and Juliette, aged seven, ran through the room again, circling me with their ribbons, like a Maypole. Juliette screamed at me about Annette hitting her, and Annette screamed even louder that Juliette pushed her first.

I took another sip and simply nodded.

It didn't matter what I said, or did, the girls would continue to scream. They only had two volume levels … loud and asleep.

Annette overturned my sewing basket and scattered the various half finished projects throughout the room.

Juliette stuck a sewing needle in my arm to get my attention.

I pulled it out.

And took another sip.

Cook came and announced that lunch was served. That would keep the girls occupied for a little while.

I wasn't hungry.

But I was thirsty, so I took a bigger sip.

I don't remember much after Lydia's letter. It was a dark period, punctuated only by mama's screams and rants. Until she began to hover.

She said I needed to attend the upcoming assembly. I needed to find a husband. Maybe I could go to London and stay with Aunt Gardiner and find another rich man and get engaged again.

She said she would demand Lizzy and Mr. Darcy find me a rich husband to make up for getting Charles killed.

Had they gotten Charles killed? I tried to remember the exact details … but it was too vague, the particulars lost in the dark.

I didn't want to go to London.

I didn't want to go to Lizzy.

I didn't want to attend assemblies.

She made me go anyway.

I went. I danced. I drank punch. I watched.

For months I watched.

I watched the young girls giggle and flirt with the young men. They still believed in happy endings. They still dreamed of glorious weddings and true love.

It almost made me sick.

And then _he_ started to show an interest in me. He was twice my age and three times my size. He had two daughters. His wife was dead.

He owned a house in town connected to the back of his store. He sold general goods and was quite comfortable.

He wanted to court me.

I finally let him.

We spoke very little but walked quite a lot. He explained about how he took care of his store, and wanted me to care for his girls.

He wanted a wife for himself, and a mother for them.

I wanted out.

He proposed. Papa gave his blessing. Mama wanted me to hold out for someone wealthier.

I said yes.

That was two months ago.

He is a nice man. Very quiet. Gentle.

Until he's not.

He is not Charles. He can never be Charles.

Now I sit here. And I sip.

I sip the wine that makes me feel warm. It makes me feel less empty. It makes me feel more human.

It makes me _feel_.

So I sip.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Okay, here are two more. This was what I had planned for Emily from the first.**

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews, I really appreciate them.**

**Emily's POV**

I ran my hand lazily down the broad plane of his back, enjoying the feel of the thick muscle that bunched and flexed as he moved. His hair in disarray from our enthusiastic lovemaking the night before.

He was beautiful, and he was finally mine.

I have never been happier.

It had been five years since I had last seen Robert. Then, he had been a handsome young man of nineteen, tall, thin, gangly, and so eager to prove himself. He is still tall and handsome and has grown into his limbs quite nicely; but now, he is much more self assured and carries himself with an air of quiet confidence that only adds to his appeal.

We met when I was seventeen. He came with his father to check on my mare that had developed an infection in her leg. Mr. Martin had a way with animals that had earned him the respect of all the landowners in the area and Robert was training to follow in his footsteps. It was the first time I had ever seen him as I had been away at school, and I knew as soon as I looked into his eyes that he would be trouble for me.

My father would never allow me to be courted by a tradesman's son.

No matter how much I tried to avoid him, I seemed to find myself continually drawn to the stables when I knew he would be there. He eventually worked up the courage to talk to me and from then on we began a tentative friendship. That whole summer he seemed to keep finding reasons to visit our horses, and we would spend hours together in the stables with only a few words spoken between us. Both just content to be in the same space; sharing tasks and furtive glances.

After a while, he stopped making up excuses and confessed he came everyday for a chance to see me.

That day he kissed me.

It was only my first kiss, yet somehow I knew, I wanted him to be the only lips I ever touched again.

We spent the next few weeks meeting wherever and whenever we could. We exchanged many more kisses, which were soon followed by declarations of love and promises for the future. We were in our own little bubble, and I had never been happier.

Until my father decided it was time for me to marry, and began the negotiations over cigars and brandy in the drawing rooms of the neighboring estates. A parade of single gentleman and widowers of varying ages from just a few years older than myself to the grotesquely old were invited for dinner to 'inspect the merchandise' and I was to be sold to the highest bidder despite my vehement protests.

It wasn't until I was informed one morning that my _fiance_ would be arriving that afternoon for tea and to begin making wedding plans, that I broke down and told Robert what was happening. He was livid at my father's heavy handedness, and decided that it was time we stop sneaking around and make it official.

We spoke to my father that very day.

I don't think I had ever seen my father so angry; he forbid the union and insisted I marry the suitor he had selected for me or he would drive Robert and his father out of business and out of town.

In desperation, I blurted out that we had to marry as I was carrying Robert's child. I don't know why I said it, it just flew out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

I honestly don't know who was more shocked by my declaration; my father, Robert, especially as he knew there was absolutely no way I could possibly be pregnant, or my _fiance_ who stood frozen in the open doorway of my father's study, his mouth open and his fist partially raised as if preparing to knock.

Needless to say, he didn't wait around to talk about the wedding, he fled after informing my father, rather nastily, that he was withdrawing his offer of marriage. My father, if possible, looked even more angry and sent me to my room so he and Robert could have a 'discussion.'

I never saw Robert again after that.

I was locked in my room until it was verified that I was not, in fact, with child, but by then, word had gotten around and any chance my father had of convincing someone to marry me was nil.

My mother and father both were being snubbed by the entire town as a result of my apparent 'situation,' and my father had had enough and was considering sending me away. It wasn't until the doctor that examined me, unintentionally let slip one night at the tavern that I was still a virgin, that things started to calm down.

Unfortunately for my father, but fortunately for me, the men of the town no longer found me quite so suitable, and my father finally admitted defeat and began drinking instead.

I later found out that Mr. Martin had moved away within days of the incident, but was unable, despite all my efforts, to determine where Robert might have gone.

I cried for a week, refused meals for another week, refused to speak to my father for months, and finally gave up searching for him after two years. I just couldn't keep doing it. Every dead end just shattered my heart that much more.

It wasn't until Charles came along that I had even considered marrying anyone else, but by that time, the situation with my father had gotten out of control and I just wanted … I just needed … to get away from him.

He drank, and when he drank he would get angry and blame me for ruining everything. And when he was angry at me, he would sometimes hit me if I happened to be in the way of his hand, which I seemed to be quite often, especially as he would search me out to rant at me.

He never hurt me badly enough to need a doctor, but there were weeks I couldn't leave the house because I had bruises that would be too hard to explain away. My mother, of course, just buried her head in the sand and pretended nothing was happening.

I didn't really blame her, she was just as afraid of my father as I was.

Charles was my ticket to freedom.

I know how horrible that sounds. I really do, but each time my father drank he got just a little more violent than the last time. I was afraid that one day he might not stop.

Once Charles started coming around, my father stopped hitting me. I wasn't stupid, I knew it was because he didn't want Charles to know what was happening, but whatever the reason, I was grateful for the reprieve.

All of my hopes were shattered that day Charles explained that he was engaged to another woman and would be leaving to marry her.

I knew I had to find another way to escape my father, even if it meant being a governess or companion. And I began making plans, and gathering my belongings. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this would be the last straw, and that I would not survive another encounter with my father.

My mother, in a rare moment of solidarity, gave me a small bundle to take with me. It contained a small amount of cash and all of her jewelry. She knew. She had always known. I hugged her goodbye, unsure if I would ever see her again, and waited out my father.

I needed to get in his study and access the emergency stash of money he kept hidden in the old globe on his desk. I had discovered it purely by accident one afternoon when I tripped over one of my father's boots and knocked the globe off the desk and onto the floor. It cracked open and revealed it's treasure.

I just needed to wait for my father to go to bed so I could get it and leave by the next morning. Unfortunately, my father remained in is study late into the night, and I decided to try again the following day.

The day that Charles came to speak to my father.

The day my father shot and killed Charles.

My mother was too ill to leave her bed when I left to fulfill my promise to Charles. The guilt I felt over my part in his death, not to mention that _my_ father was the one to kill him, forced me to confess my role in the whole debacle. What made me feel even worse was knowing that not only had my plans been destroyed, but that there was a woman out there somewhere whose hopes and dreams had just been snuffed out.

I may not have loved him, but Charles was a good man that hadn't deserved what had happened to him.

The trip took me almost a week. Charles had told me where his friend lived, so it was just a matter of getting there. I checked into the Inn and waited until the next day before calling at Pemberley.

It went infinitely better and devastatingly worse than I had expected. The Darcy's were very gracious throughout, all things considered, especially considering the role I played in Charles' murder. I hadn't expected the raw emotion that each displayed at the news, and it tore at me. I was also very touched by the deep affection the two obviously shared. It was evident in every touch, every look, and every word.

It made my heart ache for Robert. Seeing that level of love and commitment was just too much, and I made a hasty departure, my duty to the Darcy's complete. My next stop was to London.

Charles had spoken of his sisters often, and I felt I had an obligation to offer my condolences in person … I also had a guilty conscience that I hoped would be assuaged.

I finally located the Hurst's London residence, only to find they were out of the country for the next month. I declined the offer to leave a message.

That was hardly information one left in a note.

I knew the name of the farm in Scotland his sister Caroline lived at, but I had forgotten her new surname, so I prayed it was easy to find. I decided to go home first to check on my mother, who had been ill when I left, but was in the very capable hands of her maid, Adeline. The return trip took less time than expected, and I arrived home two days earlier than planned to find my mother being looked after by the doctor.

The stress of my father's incarceration had simply been too much. She passed away that night.

It took me two weeks to bury my mother, arrange to store the things I wanted to keep, and make arrangements with the solicitor to sell the estate to pay off my father's significant debt.

I kept the globe … and the six thousand, three hundred pounds contained within. I wondered why my father had so much money stashed away that could have been used towards paying off his debts, until I found his packed valise stashed in the stall next to his favorite stallion. He had been planning to run.

I decided to keep the money and let the bank fight over everything else. I packed a bag, saddled my favorite horse, and left my childhood home, and all I had ever known behind me. I never looked back.

I rode as far as London, sold my horse, and booked my travel to Scotland. It took almost two weeks, seven different coaches, one attempted robbery, and all of my patience. It was actually a very beautiful country, and I decided to spend some time exploring it once my duty was complete.

Charles sister lived in a run down farm that showed signs of recent improvements and repairs. It was obvious someone was making an effort to fix it up. I saw a large man repairing a portion of the fence and tried to get his attention to ensure I was in the correct place before I started banging on the door.

When he turned around and our eyes met, I froze.

I never, in all my widest dreams, imagined I would see him again, so when I came face to face with him after all this time, I almost thought my lonely heart had conjured him. Except he looked so very different than how I remembered.

I still knew it was him. No matter how much he had changed, I would know him anywhere.

It was Robert. My Robert.

He finally approached me, his eyes brimming with the same emotion I was sure was in mine, and took my hand. I felt the same surge of warmth I always felt when we touched.

We both began speaking at once … but he let me go first … and my story came pouring out as he listened intently. When I explained who I was looking for he seemed to suddenly come back to himself and awkwardly stepped away.

That's when he explained about his wife … his pregnant wife.

My heart shattered all over again. To finally find him after all that time, and he was bound to another.

It was just too much.

I spoke to Caroline, said what I had gone there to say, and took my leave soon after. I couldn't stay there. I couldn't be in the same house with the woman that was sharing Robert's bed. That was sharing his life and bearing his child.

I don't remember how I got back to the Inn, I just remember the pain, and the tears. Lots and lots of tears.

He arrived the next day and begged me to listen to his story. He said he was miserable, and stuck in a marriage with an immature and spoiled girl that was carrying the child of her dead lover. A man she never stopped talking about.

He told me what happened after that day in the library, and he told me about his first wife. Then he told me he had never stopped loving me, and asked me to stay a few days longer so he could see me again.

I did. I stayed a week.

And then we left.

I know it wasn't right what we did, but I have tried to do the right thing and it had never gotten me anywhere. And I wasn't willing to let him go again.

He couldn't divorce her or she would be shunned, so he hired someone to run things, established a weekly delivery from the market, set aside an account for Lydia and the baby, and filled out all the paperwork to leave his half of the farm to Lydia in the event of his death.

Robert Martin and Emily Palmer died three months ago in a freak carriage accident.

Two months ago, Mr. and Mrs. Robert Stratton, bought a small farm in Galway, Ireland, and are expecting their first child.

Is what we are doing wrong? Probably. Especially in the eyes of the church, but we just can't seem to bring ourselves to care.

Love was stolen from us once, and for better or worse, I will not let it go again.

I have paid my dues in this life, and now I plan to reap my reward.

**Mr. Palmer's POV**

So cold.

I have never felt to cold in all my life.

It isn't just the bare cell, or the filthy rag that passes for a blanket in this dismal place, or even the bitterly cold wind that seeps in through the cracks and crevices … no, it is the bone deep cold from the knowledge that today I am going to die.

I killed a man.

I killed an innocent man in cold blood and for my sins I have been sentenced to hang.

Not that it means anything, nor will it have any bearing on my fate, but I _am_ truly sorry for what I did. I really don't know how it happened. It happened in slow motion and yet, so fast that I couldn't stop it.

I had been polishing my gun to take with me. My gambling debts had gotten too large and I knew it wouldn't be long before they came and took everything, so I needed to go. I had stashed some money away for just such an emergency, and I knew it was time. I knew that the estate would have to be sold to pay off my debts, but there should be enough left over for my wife and daughter to start over somewhere else. Somewhere the taint of my indiscretions wouldn't follow them.

I knew it was the coward's way out, but I was, in essence, a coward, so it was fitting.

I had been polishing my gun and drinking, trying to convince myself that I was doing what was best for everyone. Better a husband and father that was gone, than one in debtor's prison and shamed. It would just drag up that nightmare with Emily from five years ago.

I had been drinking, not realizing exactly how much I had imbibed until I started to feel that familiar anger. The anger that only came out when I was in a weakened state … when I was drunk. I knew what happened when I drank, the anger would surface and take over my rational mind.

Anger at Emily for ruining my plans for her marriage to supply me the money I needed to get out of debt, anger at my wife for failing to provide me with a son, but most of all, anger at myself for what I did, each and every time I allowed that anger out. I knew I was weak; too weak to stop drinking, too weak to stop gambling as the losses started to accumulate.

I hated myself at times, but that didn't stop the cycle from continuing.

Then along came Charles Bingley like a beacon of light in my darkest hour. I could sense right away that he was an man that was easily led, and I did everything in my power to push he and Emily together, even going so far as to make sure they were seen alone together while out riding. It was insurance in case he didn't fall in line with my plans for him and his money.

But then I overheard him talking to Emily in the garden that day, and knew the game was over. It was time to put my plans into action. It was time for me to leave.

I started to feel that familiar anger and knew I needed to stop drinking. I didn't want to hurt her again, not on this day, my last night in my home, and most likely, my last night to ever see her again. I didn't want to hurt her anymore.

But then he came in. He came into my study and started to explain why he couldn't marry my daughter … why he would be unable to stay in the area … how he was so very sorry for any misunderstandings. And the anger reared it's ugly head once more, only this time it was aimed at this man … this man that had been my last hope of salvation … my last hope for being the kind of man I had always wanted to be.

Before I even realized it was happening, my hand was raised and the gun cocked. I don't remembering pulling the trigger, I just remember feeling the gun jerk and hearing the sound of his body as it fell.

Everything after that was a blur until I woke up here. Cold and alone.

Cold, alone and more scared than I have ever been in my life.

Today I would die.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Okay, we are getting closer to D&E. Only a few more to go. These are actually harder to write than you might think, hence the delays for such short chapters. Trying to put myself 'into their shoes' is not easy.**

**Special thanks to Tinkcook who has been kind enough to Beta the epilogues for me. She has been a true angel!**

**Caroline's POV**

How in the holy hell had my life come to this? Stuck in this backwoods hick town in the middle of nowhere, with a spoiled brat for a roommate, one servant, a screaming infant, and a mostly absent husband.

And now, the little brat's mother, _Mrs. Bennet_, that ungodly harpy that wouldn't recognize good breeding if it slapped her in the face, has decided she would be staying longer.

_She_ has decided … as if it's _her _right to decide.

Is it any wonder why I can't stand the woman?

Why she even wants to be here, when all she does is complain about … every … little … thing … is beyond me. I'm stuck here for Lord's sake, and even _I_ don't want to be here.

It's not like I have a choice though. Especially since _my own sister_ refuses to let me come live with her. She said things were hectic with the new baby, and Mr. Hurst felt it would be best if they had time alone to bond without any _distractions_.

Apparently, now I'm a distraction.

And my only sister doesn't want me around. Not that I care. I don't. I dislike screaming babies anyway.

Case in point … the one caterwauling in the next room right now.

The icing on the cake of my complete and total humiliating existence, however, is that my dear, dear husband, the same man that duped me into believing he was worth eight thousand pounds a year, has control of all _my_ money, and all I get is a small allowance.

I get _an allowance_ from _my own_ _money_!

He lied to me, and now he is blaming me, saying _I_ lied to _him_.

He made me believe he was fairly wealthy and we would be living at his country estate. We are in the country alright. Couldn't get much more country than we are right now. This place makes the Bennet's home, Longbourne, look like a palace.

I haven't seen my husband in almost two weeks, not that I care one bit. And frankly, I'm not sure when he will be coming back; our last fight had been … heated.

We had been discussing where he went since he was never here … his _home_. Because, honestly, if I have to be stuck here, he should as well, right?

It only seems fair that we both be equally miserable.

He didn't seem to appreciate me telling him that.

But then _he_ had the utter nerve … the audacity … to suggest that I had misled him … _I_ mislead _him_?

His words are still stuck on an endless loop in my head, _" … I'll admit," _he admitted somewhat sheepishly, "_what had at first started out as a marriage of convenience, simply to get the necessary capital to make the much needed repairs and improvements on the farm I wanted invest in, had grown into true feelings. I found you sweet and gentle and you made me laugh. I had such high hopes we would have a long and happy life together. _

His words had actually taken me by surprise, but evidently he wasn't finished, and his voice turned bitter.

"_Then, after a wonderful honeymoon, we arrived here, to not only discover that the 'farm' I was hoping to buy into was much smaller and needed much more work than I had been led to believe to make it profitable, but that the woman I thought I had married, the woman I was starting to care for, did not exist. Instead, she had been replaced by a sharp tongued shrew almost overnight."_

He then suggested … well, shouted from across the room actually… that I had acted that way _purposely_ to ensnare him into marriage.

Well of course I did.

It is called _making yourself marketable._

Every single woman at those balls and dinner parties does the _exact_ same thing when trying to land a husband.

Did he really think I would have been interested in him for his looks?

Marriage is just a business arrangement, everyone knows that. One in which, admittedly, the man holds most of the power, but if the woman plays her cards right, she would be taken care of for the rest of her life. As long as she does her duty and provides an heir, her husband would be her stepping stone to bigger and better things.

Only, _I _seem to be the one stuck paying the price while _he_ runs off, doing Lord knows what, and spending all of _my_ money!

Surely he wasn't that naïve about how things worked.

I asked him that exact question … well, more like shouted it from across the same room … and he just threw his hands up and stormed out without answering.

He does that ... a lot. I don't know how we are supposed to have a conversation if he walks out all the time.

He thinks _he's_ disappointed, but what about me? This wasn't how my life was supposed to turn out at all.

Mr. Darcy was supposed to be my ticket into the first circles of London Society, an unattainable dream for me up to that point in my life. Charles may have the money, but it was a tightly knit group that you had to either be born or marry into. It really was quite unfair.

From the moment I met Mr. Darcy, however, I knew. He was so handsome and cut such a fine figure … I knew he was destined to be mine. He had a highly respected family name, connections that were impeccable, a beautiful house in London, and an absolutely palatial country estate.

One that I had every intention of becoming mistress of someday.

I just needed to get him to recognize that I belonged there.

At first, he seemed interested in me. He would always save a dance for me, or escort me into dinner, and he even made a point of asking my views on various books he had read.

Of course, I had never _read_ them, who had time to read? But thankfully, I have always been able to bluff my way through those types of discussions, and he seemed duly impressed with my answers. In fact, I always seemed to render him speechless by my astute observations.

It's a gift I have.

But he never quite seemed to appreciate the effort I went to on his behalf when it came to protecting him from the mercenary women of the Ton. I made sure to share what I had learned about the various young ladies he was seen dancing with, so he could avoid them in the future.

If anyone was getting their hands on Mr. Darcy, it would be me.

That was not self serving … that was just me simply lending a helping hand to what was already fated.

It was a while before I saw him again after that, he almost seemed to be avoiding me, but that couldn't be right.

I was convinced we would be perfect together … and I was sure he knew it too. Men just take longer to figure these sorts of things out. It's quite annoying actually.

But then Eliza Bennet got her claws in Mr. Darcy and turned him completely against me, ruining all my carefully crafted plans … I mean … interfering with fate.

I was at a complete loss as to what he could possibly see in that country girl. She was passably attractive, but by no means beautiful; she was capable of carrying on a respectable conversation, but was in no way superior to me in intellect or wit, and she had absolutely _no_ fashion sense.

The future Mrs. Darcy would be looked upon to set the trends in fashion, so it was vital that she be a woman with impeccable taste and style … someone like me.

Eliza Bennet wouldn't even recognize a trend, much less set one. I had faith that Mr. Darcy would soon recognize her glaring inadequacies, and move on to more suitable women … or _woman. _

I assumed, incorrectly, as it turns out, that once he left Netherfield, his uncharacteristic fascination or whatever it was he felt for Eliza Bennet, would become a distant memory.

That didn't happen.

_She_ was only supposed to be a _temporary_ diversion or distraction; he could even have made her his mistress if he was _that_ interested in bedding her, then … _then_ … he would marry a woman from his own social circle … like me.

And I had spent _hours, _hours I will never get back, making nice with his shy little mouse of a sister … all for nothing. Trying to get Georgiana Darcy to carry on a decent conversation was almost an exercise in futility. Not that he appreciated _any_ of my efforts on her behalf.

He hadn't followed the rules.

He had married _her_ … actually thrown convention, his duty, even his responsibilities, right out the window … and married the unsuitable, unattractive, and completely uncouth country girl.

And Charles had supported, and even encouraged him. It was unsupportable.

Charles.

Charles.

I still couldn't believe my baby brother was dead.

I was in shock for days after I received the news from Louisa about his death. She and her husband had arrived home unexpectedly early from their trip abroad, to find a note telling them to contact Charles' solicitor immediately. Louisa had written me the next day with the tragic news.

It has taken a while, but it has finally sunk in that I will never again be able to see him.

I am not completely heartless, despite what everyone thinks about me. I did love my brother, and it hurt me when he sent me away. I just didn't think Jane Bennet was good enough for him … but I would rather have him married to … _her_ … than dead.

And I miss him … terribly.

I still don't really know what actually happened. But the daughter of the man who shot him, Emile, or Evalene, or whatever her name was, arrived unexpectedly, a few weeks after Louisa's letter. She said she felt she _owed_ it to me to offer her condolences in person as Charles had spoken _fondly_ of me

Fondly? What did that mean exactly? Was he still angry with me? Had he still loved me? What was _she_ to Charles?

I thought to ask _her_ these questions, but she was acting very strange and jumpy her entire visit. Then she refused tea, and made her excuses; leaving only minutes after she arrived.

I found it exceedingly rude, and her poor manners simply highlighted her apparently bad upbringing.

Unfortunately, I still had no idea what had happened to my brother.

It wasn't until Charles' solicitor contacted my husband and explained the circumstances of his death, that it truly hit me that Charles was really gone. My husband of course, after awkwardly patting my shoulder in an apparent show of sympathy, was more than happy to agree with the Hurst's, who were joint beneficiaries of Charles' will, that all property be sold and the funds split.

They were split alright. Split between my husband and my selfish sister's husband.

I would still rather have my brother than any of his money … not that I actually _have_ any of his money, but that's not the point.

I miss him. I never imagined I would, but I do.

He looked so much like our father, and looking at him was like seeing my father again, sometimes painfully so. I miss my father too.

Now, I won't see either ever again.

I just hope he wasn't in pain when he died.

Yet another question I never got to ask.

I hope he at least died quickly … so he didn't feel anything. I wouldn't have wanted him to feel any pain, dying all alone like he did, with no family or friends around to hold his hand.

My poor baby brother.

He was one of the few people in this world that actually loved me, and now he was gone.

Was this all that was left of my life now?

A husband who didn't like me and was gone more than he was here, a sister too busy living her own life to concern herself with me, and a roommate equally estranged from her own husband … even if she was completely oblivious to that fact.

And now, the stress of all this is starting to have a physical affect on me also. Is it any wonder I haven't been feeling well lately and not been able to keep anything down? With everything I have to deal with, I am not surprised.

At least my _loving and generous_ husband has agreed to make some improvements to the house, and hire a few more maids, with _my_ newly acquired wealth.

What a saint.

He will have to cough up some more funds for new clothes pretty soon as well if my appetite doesn't return. I am starting to lose weight and my dresses are hanging on me in a very unattractive manner.

Not that he cares. He is never around long enough to actually _notice_.

I have considered just leaving and going to live with Great Aunt Matilda in Scarborough … for about three seconds. As much as I loathe my living situation as it is, it is still preferable to living with that old hag. She is almost completely deaf, so every conversation is conducted almost in screams, she smells of cabbage, and attends mass twice a day, and expects her house guests to accompany her … and I don't exactly relish spending four hours a day, every day, on my knees.

Especially since the thing I end up praying for is to be able to _get off my aching knees!_

I realize that could be considered … maybe, slightly … blasphemous, but I never claimed to be perfect.

It didn't used to be so bad when Uncle Edward was still alive, he was a barmy old goat … but he loved me and he made me smile. When he died, Aunt Matilda seemed to go downhill.

Lydia may be annoying, but she isn't as bad as she was at first, and at least she respects my privacy most of the time. Her mother, however, her mother has _got_ to go. I don't think I can last another day with her.

I might … accidentally … straggle her in her sleep.

That would at least keep her quiet.

I would never do anything like that though, I was just kidding … mostly.

The only good thing I could say about my life, was that at least I didn't have any children.

That would be too horrid to contemplate.

**Mr. Thomas Martin's (POV)**

She deceived me completely.

My wife … lied.

I know, I know, I sort of did the same thing, but I had been told the farm, once repaired, would bring in eight thousand pounds annually, so it was more of an 'anticipated income' than an actual one, and therefore I didn't _technically_ lie. I just didn't think she would marry me if I told her I only made six hundred pounds a year.

Turns out, I should have just left well enough alone.

Robert, my nephew, informed me that capital was needed to purchase special sheep whose wool would bring in quite a hefty profit, as well as update the farm to accommodate them, and make some repairs to the house. He had obtained some funds by marrying a compromised young woman, but once he got there and actually saw the state of the farm, he said his five thousand pounds wouldn't be enough, and wrote and asked me if I wanted to become his partner.

He neglected to tell me the extent of the disrepair on the farm, or how small and unkempt the house was. To say I was disappointed would be a gross understatement. Now, I own half of … well, half of something.

Then, on the same day I discover the _real_ state of my new home, I find out that the sweet woman I _thought_ I had courted and married, was in actuality, someone _totally different_ in both temperament and demeanor. It was a serious blow.

I really had hoped we could build something special between us, something lasting and solid. I wanted my children to have the kind of parents I had growing up … and now it looked like that wasn't going to happen.

I had always wanted a beautiful daughter to bounce on my knee, and a strapping boy to teach to ride. I may have to just settle for one or the other because I doubt my _loving_ wife will let me near her again.

That's okay though, one is enough, and I will hire a wonderful nanny, as I doubt Caroline will be very involved in the child's life beyond the role she now plays.

I wonder why she didn't tell me she was with child when I was there last? Her maid keeps me appraised of my wife's health and any problems in the house … she should, considering what I pay her to keep me informed … and is convinced Caroline is as yet unaware of her condition, despite the obvious signs.

It's no matter, I have decided to enlarge the house, since I'll be moving in and we need the room, and will be hiring more help. As long as she carries my child, I will ensure Caroline is as comfortable as possible.

Who knows, maybe I can even soften her up long enough to convince her to give me another one in a year or two.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Okay, here is another one. Lydia is, well, Lydia, and trying to get into her mind left me with quite a powerful headache. Mrs. B is another story. I apologize if they aren't what you were hoping for, but to be honest, I'm ready to get as far away from these two as possible and back to the happy couple.**

**Thanks again to my lovely angel Beta, Tinkcook, for saving me once again!**

**Lydia's POV**

I had no idea babies were so loud.

All. The. Time.

And crikey … how can something so small produce so much shite and piss? It is quite disgusting actually. The poor maid mama hired spends almost her whole day changing nappies.

Vile, disgusting things. Better her than me.

I know I'm supposed to love Henry to death and to think even his poo is adorable … but it isn't … and I don't.

So kill me.

Don't get me wrong, he is a cute little bugger now that he's a bit older and no longer looks like that scrawny, purpley, bloody … _thing_ … that I gave birth to. I will be the first to admit, when he first came out he looked downright scary. I thought there must have been some horrible mistake; he barely looked human.

No one explains these things to you before you give birth … or even before you have relations. I guess, like intercourse, giving birth is just something ladies are supposed to find out for themselves the hard way.

That's almost funny actually … I got pregnant when George stuck his hard thingy in me … and then got pregnant and was forced to endure nine hours of pain … which was very, very hard.

Ha!

George would have appreciated the humor in it. No one else really _gets_ me. Not mama with all her rules, and definitely not Caroline with the very thick stick up her bum.

Henry, he really is sweet sometimes, and has thankfully outgrown his unfortunate appearance at birth. I had no idea that _all_ babies looked like that when they were first born, so its really not fair to judge me too harshly for refusing to touch him while screaming to have him taken away … and I truly did not _mean_ to kick the midwife in the head … twice … after she slapped me.

She said she only did it to calm me down, but I'm not so sure.

She was quite terse with me the entire time, actually, but with mama offering up advice and criticizing her the entire time, I can hardly blame the woman. I just resented her acting like it was all some great easy walk in the park and that _I_ was being a big baby for making such a fuss.

But, having babies _hurts!_

Holy hell does it hurt.

Mama was absolutely no help at all. With all of her words of _comfort_ … 'I know what I'm talking about Lydia, I've had five daughters' … and 'I spent seventeen hours in labor with you Missy, so just deal with it' … 'must you scream so loud Lydia, it isn't that bad.'

It _was_ that bad, actually, and I did _deal with it. _I also screamed and cried … and may or may not have thrown a few things … and I may have made some slightly unladylike comments … but sakes alive, _it … bloody … hurt!_

And acting like a lady all the time ain't all it's cracked up to be, let me tell you.

All those boring rules, set by stuffy old farts, meant to keep young women from having any fun. They have just forgotten how to have fun … or never had any even when they were young … so why should I have to listen to what _they_ say or follow _their_ rules?

I much prefer this whole married thing. I pretty much get to do what I want, act how I want to act, and now I don't even have to put up with my husband anymore because he went and got himself killed.

Not that he was a bad man really, but he was just sooooooooooo dull. Dull, dull, dull. It was dead annoying at times.

Not like my George. George knew how to have fun and didn't think less of me if I did either. He said he liked me because I wasn't uptight like all the other girl's he knew.

And lordy, lordy could that man make me feel good. He told me he was a virgin, same as me, but he was sure good at making my body feel things I had never even imagined I could feel … and the things he allowed me to do to him … whew!

I knew what we were doing was considered wrong, but we loved each other so how could it be wrong?

My Georgie used to always tell me that we couldn't tell anyone what we were doing together because they would be jealous of the love we shared. He said they would try and rip us apart and make us feel what we had done was bad, when in truth, it was a natural and beautiful thing to express our love that way.

My George always said such sweet things.

But then he was killed.

That hurt, and for a long time I refused to accept that he was dead, but despite what everyone seems to think about me, even _I_ am not that dense. I know he is gone and is never coming back. But I have so many good memories of our time together … and now I have his son.

I would rather have him, but it is the next best thing.

See, even I can grow up.

On that note, I have been thinking about forgiving Mr. Darcy and Lizzy for what they did to my George. I mean, I can't really blame Mr. Darcy for being jealous of George … he was … he was just so … so handsome and sweet, and tender … and sincere and exciting … and just … _George_! And Mr. Darcy is an uptight stick in the mud, who will never be even half the man George was.

I can't really blame Lizzy for wanting George either … for the same reasons. I'm sure lots of women wanted him … but he chose me!

And honestly, I kinda feel sorry for Lizzy. She is stuck, for the rest of her life, having to suffer through Mr. Darcy's attentions, and will never have a chance to experience what I have … true pleasure and bliss in the arms of the man you love.

Man oh man, if she knew how good relations could be, she would be green with envy.

Actually, I kinda like the idea of Lizzy jealous of me. Miss hoity toity with all of her admonitions … 'act like a lady, Lydia' … 'stop slouching, Lydia' … 'ladies don't show so much leg, Lydia' … 'ladies don't run screaming down the street, Lydia' … 'don't have any fun, Lydia' … 'be just as uptight as the rest of us, Lydia' … _blah, blah, blah!_

On second thought, maybe I won't forgive her.

She and Mr. Darcy deserve each other.

It's no wonder I didn't have any fun growing up, I was surrounded by people always telling me how to dress like a lady, and act like a lady, and walk like a lady, and talk like a lady … it was enough to make anyone scream.

What about having fun?

Why would I want to be a lady if I can't have any bleeding fun?

It doesn't matter now. I am a widow, and widows get to do pretty much anything they want. I can even take a lover if I want … not that anyone would ever compare to my George … so I will probably never do it. But, if I wanted to I could.

It's a perk.

I'm sure George would understand.

If something had happened to me, I would have, after a very long mourning period where he miserably pined away for me, wanted him to eventually move on and be happy.

Well, as happy as he could possibly be without me.

He told me I was the only one for him and that he would die without me, so maybe he wouldn't have even wanted to go on living if it had been me that died.

He was so romantic and sweet like that.

I have to stop thinking about George so much … it always makes me sad.

Speaking of sad … I wish people would stop looking at me like I'm going to erupt into fits of tears any second just because my husband died. Honestly, it's dead annoying.

That, and the black. Having to wear black … for an entire year! I bet some old hag came up with that rule too, cuz it sure wasn't someone young. Black looks hideous on me, and I will be extremely happy when I no longer have to wear it.

And I absolutely, positively, put my foot down, and refuse to even consider wearing that hideous black veil mama insists is proper. Sure, proper when you are _eighty_, but … _not_ … when you are barely eighteen.

I swear, mama purposely tries to ruin any good mood I manage to find myself in.

Again with the rules. Rules, rules, rules. Life would be so much easier if all this pointless rules were discarded and people were allowed to do whatever they wanted.

That would be fun!

I guess I should be thankful to Robert. He was actually an ideal husband. When he was alive he rarely bothered me and was absent most of the time, and then he died young and left me well taken care of.

Robert left his half of the farm to me, and as long as the wool prices … do something or other … and I keep the crops something, something, something … anyway … I didn't really pay too much attention when the solicitor was talking … he was so boring and long winded, and he had this twitchy left eye that was very distracting … but I have a home, some monthly pin money, and other people who are paid to worry about all the business stuff, so I'm set.

I'm very thankful to Robert for that!

Mama says I should just leave this place and come back to Longbourne to live, but there is no way I am going back to having to follow someone else's rules again.

I love mama, but she can be a bit trying at times. She spends all her time gossiping with the neighbors or 'suffering from nerves,' and papa just hides himself in his study and only comes out for meals … if even then.

No, I will stay here and be my own person … woman … whatever.

I would prefer Caroline wasn't here, but as long as I leave her alone, she does the same to me.

Not like in the beginning … oh lordy, that was a nightmare. She strolled in acting like Miss High and Mighty, ordering me around and expecting _me_ to wait on her.

I quickly dissuaded her of that crazy notion. If I had to do manual labor to eat … then she did also.

It took her a while to get it through her head that she was in the same predicament as I was. It actually took a bit of a push as well … a push into a fresh pile sheep manure … a push into the compost bin … a push into the dirty washing tub … and even a push into my hand a time or two.

We were pretty much okay after that. She avoided me, did her share around this place, and I did mine.

Now we have a few more maids and a couple of extra hands around the farm, so my days of manual labor are over.

Thank blessed Mary for that!

She and mama don't get on well at all though. It's almost comical watching them circle each other like two rabid cats. It makes for quite lively after dinner entertainment. And, out here in the middle of nowhere, you have to take what amusement you can get.

**Mrs. Bennet's POV**

I sometimes wonder why I even bother speaking at times, as no one ever seems to listen to me.

You would think that the fact that I have given birth si … five times, that I would have some notion of what raising children entailed. You would think that my daughter, who has _never_ had children until now, would _listen_ to her mother.

Does she listen? No.

I have the most ungrateful, selfish girls on the entire planet. You would think that the fact that I was in labor for seventeen hours, and _almost died_ in the process of delivering Lydia, would allow for greater consideration from the very child that almost killed me.

Does it? No.

I am at a complete loss as to why my youngest daughter does not want to come back to Longbourne, her home, where she belongs, especially now that that husband of hers is dead. She could raise her son in a much better environment than this run down old place. She could actually have her father and I for company, not living with a pregnant harpy, despite the fact that said harpy still has no idea she is pregnant, a few farm hands, and two maids in the middle of the wilderness.

Stubborn child. She refuses to listen to reason.

Lydia was the one child of mine that ever listened to me, and now, even she has become like the rest just because she had a child. And it's not like she even spends that much time with Henry since she hired a full time nursemaid, but everything has chanced since his birth.

Children change everything … children _affect_ everything.

The heartache, and the disappointment, not to mention the bone chilling sense of failure … they come immediately after giving birth. They come and they stay.

No one tells you about _that_ when you are in labor. No one explains that the child you have prayed for and longed for … the child you _needed_ … could be born dead, or born a girl.

I waited and hoped and prayed. I made deals with God, and I would have even made a deal with the Devil himself if it would have gotten me my son … but deals don't work. Nothing works. Babies come when they want, and they are girls when you need them to be boys.

Of course, Lydia got her son without even trying. She got her son, but now both the father of her child and her husband are dead, so I'm not sure if she is blessed or cursed.

I have been in this place she calls home for over six months now. I have no idea how her husband expected her to run a house when the house barely meets the criteria of a home. There is only one water closet, three bedrooms shared between five and a half people, no nursery to speak of, a small closet sized room they have deemed a sitting room, and a very small kitchen.

At least now they have more than one servant, unlike when I arrived. My poor Lydia, having to fend for herself, take care of the animals, the garden, and do _chores_ like a common servant. What on earth had that Darcy been thinking to suggest that Mr. Martin would be a suitable husband for my delicate Lydia? If only he had heeded my suggestion and chosen Lydia for himself instead of Elizabeth, then I would be sitting at Pemberley instead of in this hovel they call a home.

There was absolutely _no way_ he could be happy with Elizabeth. She is built like a boy, talks and runs around like a boy, even spends all her time buried inside books like a boy … except she wasn't a boy. She wasn't the boy I expected.. She will _never_ be the boy I wanted … I needed. So, really, what good is she?

Maybe they _do_ deserve each other. Then she can be as much of a disappointment to him as a wife as she was to me as a son.

Not that anyone else seems to be the least bit concerned that Lydia is stuck in the place without a husband. That Caroline woman, who thinks she is so much better than everyone else, isn't so high and mighty anymore. Not with her messy hair and her wrinkled dress, yet she still walks around here like she is the queen of the castle.

Some castle.

Caroline's husband is another piece of work, I have only seen him a few times since I have been here, and he was drunk or they were arguing each time. I haven't seen him in a few weeks though, not since Caroline was contacted by that solicitor with the final paperwork for her brother's estate.

She thinks I don't know what's going on, but I do. She thinks she can lord her money over my Lydia; try and make her feel inferior, but if she has so much money then why is she still living here?

And that's the other thing. What, on Gods' green earth was that husband of Lydia's thinking, running off and dying like that? I haven't told Lydia, but there was some suspicion regarding his death, especially since he was supposedly traveling alone in the carriage with another woman at the time. Was he leaving her? Had he been having an affair?

Of course, Lydia is completely unconcerned by his death, nor does she care under what circumstances he died under, suspicious or otherwise, her only concern has been George's child.

She does go on and on about him and it breaks a mother's heart to know that the love of her life was ripped away from her before they could even begin a life together.

That was the Darcy's fault too.

Everything always comes back to him … to _them_.

Everything that has gone wrong in the past two years can be traced back to them.

And it makes me sick that no one else sees it besides Lydia. They have everyone fooled, but _I_ am not fooled. _I_ see them for what they are.

They are jealous. Jealous of anyone else's happiness. So jealous they have to ruin whatever joy anyone else has just to make themselves feel better.

I see them clearly and they will never get away with it again. Not as long as I have something to say about it.

Why can't some people just leave well enough alone. Always trying to bring everyone down with them. Trying to fob off their own misery onto others.

It's just not right.

Lydia still won't listen to me about coming home, and she is being quite pigheaded about her mourning attire. Honestly, I swear some days that child lives to vex me. And don't even get me started on the hissy fit she threw when I brought up the black veil. It is really not seemly for her to be seen without it, but she refuses to listen to reason and flies off the handle when I even mention her wearing it when she goes out.

I really never knew she was quite so sensitive. It is really quite frustrating, and I feel like I am seeing a whole new side of my youngest daughter … and it is not one I am overly fond of. That girl gets more and more like Lizzy every day with the way she continues to try my patience.

And now … now … she wants to attend the annual Harvest Dance … and she wants to wear the new purple dress she had made … Lord help me, but that child will be the death of me.

Where are my smelling salts when I need them? I need Hill. Hill always knows what I need … when she isn't off wasting time somewhere. I have to keep such a close eye on the servants or else they would not get an ounce of work done. Lazy sots; every last one of them.

Oh where is that servant girl? I need some tea to calm my nerves, and I need to get away from Lydia before I am tempted to slap some sense into her. Her husband only dead a few months and here she is wanting to flaunt herself in front of the entire town, who will, no doubt, be appalled at her indecorous behavior and she will be shunned, or worse, gossiped about.

Some people are so very cruel.

Where _is_ that lazy girl with my tea?

All of them … the whole lot … lazy.

My grandson is now sleeping, after quite a struggle to get him to sleep after Lydia fed him. She was quite adamant at first that she would not breastfeed, but I'm not sure where she thought I was supposed to find a wet nurse out in the middle of nowhere without any prior notice. It's not like they just hang out at the pub waiting for work … no, that would be a different sort of … lady.

The sort of _lady_ that I knew Thomas had visited from time to time over the years, despite trying to hide it from me. I could _smell_ her on him when he came home. The smell of cheap perfume, stale alcohol, and muskiness.

It's not a smell you ever forget.

He thought I never knew. But I knew. I always knew.

Not that that mattered anymore. After Lydia, there was really no need to share his bed any longer. Why should I have to subject myself to that?

Goodness gracious but that boy … Henry … has quite a set of lungs on him.

Where was that girl? She still hasn't brought me my tea. And where is Caroline? She could at least help out since Lydia is sleeping. That would be the Christian thing to do.

I went in search of my tea tray, as that girl was probably off somewhere daydreaming instead of doing her job. Where is everyone? I checked outside and discovered a very hairy man tending to the sheep.

No. He was Ronnie Sinclair … the caretaker. He had been hired to look after things after Mr. Martin's death.

I would stay and make sure my Lydia was not alone. No one else seemed to care what happened to Lydia except me. Even her own father refused to let her come back home with us, and her sisters … her sisters had deserted her in her time of need … just like everyone else.

But she would have me. I would stay.

In the six months I have been here, I have only received six, very short letters from my husband, three letters from Jane, one from my sister Mrs. Phillips, and one each from Mary and Kitty.

They wasted the entire letter gushing over Pemberley, Georgiana Darcy, Pemberley, Mr. Darcy, Pemberley, Lizzy, and their school. It was just as well they didn't write again.

They have obviously fallen under the Darcy spell and they can just stay there for all that it concerns me.

Oh, where is that tea? Must I do everything myself?

Maybe I will just go home. I really can barely tolerate that Caroline woman, and now my own daughter seems to have turned against me as well. Can't she see how much she needs me to guide her?

But I suppose that is a mother's lot in life, to be forever under appreciated by the very children she slaved her whole life to raise.

My son would have appreciated me though … he would have been different.

Ungrateful daughters … every last one of them.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Okay, here it is. Thank you for patiently sticking with me throughout the story, and for your kind words of encouragement along the way. Virtual hugs all around!**

**And a special thanks to my Beta, the lovely Tinkcook. **

**Final Epilogue:**

**Lizzy's POV**

Who knew loving someone could be so painful at times?

The past year has shown me that love sometimes hurts you more than you ever thought possible.

Yet here we are.

The news of Charles' death hit William hard, harder than he let on at the time, but after the first few weeks he seemed to go back to his usual, albeit quieter than normal, self. It wasn't until a few weeks later that I discovered he wasn't over it, not at all, he had just decided to internalize his grief so as not to burden me with it … silly, thoughtful, misguided, man.

Finally, after drinking himself into a stupor in his study and never making it to bed for the third night in a row, I finally had enough and set him straight. It wasn't pretty. I had to first get him angry enough to yell and scream back before he would tell me what was really going on.

Turns out the guilt was eating him alive and he was blaming himself for almost everything. He was even blaming himself for the fact that Lydia's husband died, and that was just taking things a little too far.

Once he finally released all those feelings that had been festering for so long he was able to deal with his emotions instead of burying them. We ended up talking long into the night and finally came up with a plan … something tangible … to ease some of his guilt.

He sent his own solicitor to speak to Mr. Martin's solicitor and make sure the farm was being properly managed; in addition, he set up a supplemental annuity for Lydia and her son, and sent two of his own tenant's sons to help manage the farm and help make it more profitable; that way both Lydia and Caroline would always be taken care of.

Louisa and her husband were already doing well financially, so he didn't feel the need to assist them … thankfully.

I personally thought it was unnecessary to do even more for Lydia, but it helped ease his conscience, so I let it be. As my aunt is always telling me … pick your battles … and this one wasn't worth fighting, especially if it afforded him even a modicum of peace.

We later found out that Mr. Palmer had been killed and that Emily had died in the same carriage accident as Lydia's husband … I have my suspicions about that … but frankly I have washed my hands of Lydia, so it's her concern, not mine. My husband has done more than his fair share where my family is concerned, and though I love him dearly for his giving nature and unfailing generosity, enough is enough.

I realize that isn't a very Christian attitude to have, but I have suffered and fretted enough at the hands of my relatives and I refuse to do it any longer. That's not to say I would be adverse to a reconciliation should either of my sisters or parents have a change of heart … but, as they say, I'm not holding my breath.

I am very happy with our 'family' as it stands now.

Mary and Kitty have finally settled into Pemberley as if they had been born and raised here and are barely recognizable as the same ill-mannered, impulsive, and dare I say … annoying … girls from a year ago. School, and being with us, has done wonders for them. They are more self confident, softer spoken, have much better manners, and are developing their own talents; Mary on the pianoforte, and Kitty, who surprisingly has discovered a love of poetry, can recite quite eloquently.

Thankfully, William was able to convince papa to allow the girls to stay with us during the holidays and summers until they are done with school. With mama always with Lydia, and Jane with her new family, he felt it was better for them to be with us.

For once I was very glad for papa's laziness and complacency. He took the easy road, and it benefited someone other than himself.

Needless to say, the girls, and Georgiana, are thrilled.

After William had secured papa's permission to keep Mary and Kitty, William finally seemed to relax and start smiling again … and doing other things in earnest again.

We have had to learn to be more creative and careful when engaging in trysts outside of our bedchambers because of the girls all being home for the summer, but the challenge of it seems to have unleashed a previously undiscovered, and might I just say, much appreciated, mischievous side to my stalwart husband.

His new found playfulness and passionate nature never fail to warm my heart … and other areas as well … and not a day goes by that I don't count my blessings. I have a lovely new sister, his aunt and uncle are wonderful, and every night … and most mornings … still find me blissfully wrapped in my lover's arms.

Lady Catherine, thankfully, has kept her promise and refuses to acknowledge us, which I couldn't be happier about. We have heard from Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, that she has run off yet another overseer, so he predicts she will soon need to liquidate some of her assets to pay off her ever increasing debts.

Couldn't happen to a nicer woman!

They say to forgive is divine … but those who said that have never met Lady Catherine!

I know, I know, that isn't very nice, but I never claimed to be perfect.

William has been trying to teach me to ride, but I much prefer walking … or riding double with him … except that usually leads to other, more … wholesome … pursuits. Not that you will ever hear me complain. My husband is an exceedingly handsome and strapping man, with a very healthy and passionate nature … and I couldn't be happier.

Thanks to Mrs. Reynolds, assuming my role as Mistress of Pemberley has been relatively painless and hassle free. The tenants all adored the previous Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, and have graciously extended that to now include William and myself, for which I am quite thankful. In fact, one of the duties I most look forward to as Mistress each week, is preparing and delivering the food and medicine baskets to the tenant households. Something that evidently hasn't been done since William's mother was alive.

Unfortunately, the neighboring families haven't been as welcoming as the tenants, and at the first Assembly we attended, my reception was almost hostile. Evidently, more than one father had hoped to connect themselves with Pemberley, and more than a few mother's had plans to ensnare the very wealthy and handsome Mr. Darcy for their simpering, overly flirty, and extremely clingy, daughters.

Thankfully, William rarely left my side, and made sure he was always touching me in some fashion or other, to send a clear signal where his affections lie. It took every ounce of my self control not to slap every woman that touched or brushed up against William … the brazen hussies … and I had to struggle against my infantile desire to stick my tongue out at the envious and hostile looks I was receiving behind his back.

I believe I did mention that I wasn't perfect.

I decided instead to take the high ground, and simply held my head high and smiled a serene smile … that may or may not have looked … very slightly … smug. I also remained as close to William's side as humanly possible without appearing scandalous … or smug … just because I could.

And I may or may not have … accidentally … brushed against his manhood … a time or two … while whispering suggestive things in his ear in a blatant attempt to encourage him to cut the evening short.

It worked.

Every time.

Have I mentioned what a lucky woman I am?

I can hardly fathom how my life would have turned out had I walked away from William at Rosings. Likely we would have never gotten together, and even the thought of being without him makes me feel ill. He has become the most important person in my life and I cannot fathom existing without him.

But as I said, love is pain … and right now I am in quite a lot of it … but hopefully for not much longer.

Especially as I have been at it since before dawn this morning.

And, to the midwife's extreme displeasure, William is right here with me holding my hand as our first child is making it's way into the world.

Our beautiful, extraordinary son.

Frederick Fitzwilliam Darcy.

**William's POV**

I never imagined life could ever be this good, but Lizzy has brought so much joy to my world that I cannot imagine a single day spent apart from her, especially now that she has given me a son.

A beautiful, healthy son.

I am a blessed man, and I give thanks every night for my bounty.

Beautiful, bountiful, Elizabeth.

Speaking of bounty … pregnancy and motherhood have done wonders for Lizzy's bosom … a fact which I exploit to the fullest extent … as often as possible.

Thankfully, she doesn't seem to mind.

Have I mentioned how blessed I am?

I still don't understand why pregnant women are expected to hide themselves away, and cover themselves with the most hideous creations as if in shame when there is nothing more stunning than a woman in full bloom.

Lizzy, whom I already find to be extraordinarily beautiful, was simply exquisite while pregnant. The way her stomach swelled above her glistening womanhood, her full breasts like dollops of fresh cream just begging to be suckled, and her skin practically luminescent … she was a sight to behold. If I had my way, she would have never worn a stitch of clothing for the entire nine months.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to have my way all of the time, but even covered, she fairly glowed with happiness and good health … she was breathtaking!

And now I have a son, and hopefully many more healthy children in the years to come.

Life is good.

Things were a bit hard for me after Charles' death. The guilt I felt was eating away at me, and despite my attempts to spare her my pain, my Lizzy finally knocked some sense into me and set me straight. She is quite a spitfire when riled, and while I'll admit to deliberately provoking her at times just to see her in all her glory, on that particular occasion, it was precisely what I needed to snap me out of my guilt induced stupor.

I have since taken measures to rectify some of my mistakes, even though Lizzy thinks it was unnecessary, and I have finally made peace with myself and with Charles' memory.

I do miss my friend though.

We had some very good times at school, but after my father died, I was no longer able to be the irresponsible and carefree young man Charles had come to know, and the dynamics of our friendship began to change. When Charles' father died a few years later, I think he looked to me to fill that role, because not only had I matured quite a lot since we had last met, but by then I was more of a father than brother to Georgie as well.

I should have seen what was happening and set healthier parameters between us to allow him to grow more on his own, but I was simply hoping to save him from making all of the same mistakes I had made when I first took over my family estate.

In hindsight, it was those hard lessons that made me into the responsible man I am today, so I see now that I really wasn't doing Charles any favors by protecting him.

But as Lizzy tells me, I can't shoulder the burdens of the world and still expect to be happy … so I've chosen to be happy and have decided to let the world take care of it's own problems.

My Elizabeth is a very shrewd woman … and extremely intelligent … and witty … and caring … and kind … and maddeningly stubborn … and even when she is being prickly and argumentative, she takes my breath away.

She is, by far, the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Yes, life is good!

Life is very, very good!


End file.
